


After the Fall

by TheFanGoddess



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Coin Guards, Daughter’s Distilly, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Magic, Pining, Romance, Taverns, Tir Fradee, Vignamri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 16:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFanGoddess/pseuds/TheFanGoddess
Summary: Follow De Sardet and his closest companions as they make sense of the new world they have created and find love, magic, and maybe a little hope.
Relationships: De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall), Kurt/ Aulora
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. Scalding

Chapter 1- Scalding

_I hope that once this is all over, I will get to sail with you again. _

It was true, he himself had said it. He had fully intended to sail off into a new life after such sacrifice and pain. To bid Tir Fradee farewell once and for all. 

But, alas, things never did go the way he planned. No, planning was too intentional. Unlike Constantin, Ian knew that he hadn’t the power over life enough to plan, and so he hoped. He hoped to no avail. 

“Will you? Will you sail with me again, my Tempest?” 

“I-” he choked out. He wanted to agree, every part of him did. But times were tender, so much left to do. A vacuum left in the place of a governor in this new Serene. No longer serene at all... 

“...there is just so much to do, beloved. I.. I don’t know.” He finished. He could imagine it, sailing away with the Fleet Commander.

“You have done _ more _ than enough, Ianto.” Vaso reached out to capture the Legate’s hand, rarely bare of the gloves. His thumb, languidly stroking his palm.

Breath caught in Ianto’s throat, he gazed into the amber of Vasco’s eyes. Memories of the last year flooded through him. From the voyage across the sea, the secrets of Serene unfolding, to reveal an island at war, a child stolen from his home, his cousin, mad with greed. The only constant, the only peace over the year was brought by those smoldering eyes. He would give anything to be lost in those golden pools, rather than be tossed away to this bitter sea.

“Vasco, I would love to come with you, but I am needed here.” He stated, spine straight, words short, feeling the tightness in his throat as his heart constricted. He pulled away, turning to the window. He gazed at the passersby, the future of Tir Fradee, bustling about their daily business. The sounds of the smithly and crying babes permeating the glass.

He could hear Vasco shift behind him. A sigh, he could hear the pain held back in it. “Ianto…”

“Don’t.” He didn’t realize he had pressed his forehead against the window until he felt the cold, saw the fog of his sob on the glass. He turned to face Vasco then, “Do what you must, my love. I’ll be here, where I’m needed.”

“And you don’t think that… that _ I _need you?” Vasco asked, something broken in his expression. He took a half step toward his Tempest, his expression knitting into something insecure and affronted.

It troubled Ian, he didn't like that look on his illustrious Captain, it seemed _wrong_. “Vasco, please,” He cupped the man’s neck, thumb stroking the thrumming pulse, tattooed in sweeping arches. “I am sorry, I just- can’t... “ 

  
They studied each other then, Blue on Amber, a challenge melding into understanding. Vasco leaned forward, capturing DeSarde’s lips in a loving but chaste kiss. He pulled him into an embrace. Fingers clutching, pulling ever closer. Vasco kissed his temple as Ian nuzzled into his neck, sighing deeply. 

“I understand, Tempest.” Vasco murmured into the auburn hair atop his head. They settled together in that warm embrace.

“I really am sorry Vasco. I truly did intend to sail away with you.” De Sardet stated, voice barely a whisper, pulling away. 

He plopped at the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. He dragged his gaze up to Vasco, who frowned down at him. He looked as if he were puzzling something through. He pat the spot beside him.

“What are you thinking my dear captain? I can hear your cogs turning.”

Vasco pulled off his coat and sat beside him, leant forward resting on his thighs. Restlessly he pulled the shirt sleeves up his forearms, wrung out his hands. He let out a deep sigh before expressing, “I don’t want to leave you, Tempest. I could say no.” 

“Vasco, this is all that you have worked for.” He sighed, “ I can’t let you do that. You would resent me for the rest of time.”

The captain sat up then, half turning to Ian, “Come now, you know better than that. I could never resent you.” He grinned, his hand rising to stroke the man’s face gently gripping his chin, birth mark still visible through the stubble of his beard. He leaned forward and kissed it then. “I love you far too much to ever resent you, my darling tempest.”

Ian smiled into that gentle kiss. He found his hand grazing down that strong arm, attempted to memorize everything about the man in that moment. The curve of his lips, the way the tattoos there shaped his face in that light. The softness of his hair then, falling over his shoulder, growing ever longer after months on the move, glowing like a halo in the candle light. The way those tattoos curved around his forearms, hugged his wrists. His eyes sparkled in the dying light. He was truly beautiful. Like some idol of the seas; Ianto couldn’t keep him here, on land, it wasn’t natural.

“Oh, and I love you Vasco. How long will it be then?” He asked, grasping the man’s hand in his own.

“Well it’s about a fortnight to the Naut island, ship maintenance and upgrades should take a week or so, then there’s the four months to the continent. A week there and we can head back…” He paused then, squeezing his hand. 

“So that’s nine months, give or take. If the wind is fair.” They locked eyes then, the weight of the time apart beginning to fully settle upon their shoulders. 

De Sardet usually had a forlorn expression, years of ostracism and seclusion carved the sadness into his visage. But, as Vasco looked upon him then, he had never seen such defeat in the man. Tears filled those ice blue eyes, but refused to fall onto those too pale cheeks. His lips were set into a firm trembling line, jaw clenched tight. 

“N- nine months.” Ian repeated. He knew when Vasco mentioned the role of fleet commander that it would be demanding indeed, and given the way of sea travel, what else did he expect? But imagining not waking up beside his best friend for so long, it felt quite like dying. 

“Shhh I know.” Vasco pulled him close, kissing his forehead. “It’s a terribly long time. I don’t want to leave you at a time like this. It’s not right.” 

“We’ll not go in this circle again, Vasco.” Ian chided, kissing the man’s lips, full and tender. “Don’t you miss the sea?” He asked, pressing his forehead against his. 

“Aye, of course I do.” 

“Then go.” He pulled away. Standing and moving back to the window. The sun was all but down, he yanked the curtains closed. He moved to light a few candles about the room. Ignoring the groan of frustration Vasco emitted, clearly seeing through his efforts to avoid the conversation. 

He heard him rise from the bed. He busied himself with unlacing his boots, setting them beside the door as usual. He moved to unfasten his doublet and laid it on the chair at the vanity. He glanced up into the mirror, Vasco was watching him, arms crossed over his chest, eyes slightly narrowed, appraising, unjudging, like he would watch an oncoming storm. It unnerved him, that steady eye.

“Shall I just go _ now _ then?” He finally asked, question dripping with venom. Yet he stood unmoving. Ian couldn’t help the roll of his eyes then, after their rotation, they met Vasco’s through the looking glass. 

“Do you care to?” He challenged, sitting heavily at the vanity. Grabbing his hairbrush, not breaking eye contact. He passed the brush through his hair lazily, making a mental note to get it cut, he was beginning to look like Constantin. He faltered then. Gaze snapping to his own reflection. The brush fell from his hand. 

Vasco came behind him silently. He took up the brush, and gently passed it through the man’s hair. “I will stay with you until the tide pulls me from your side, my tempest. Not a moment sooner.” When he was done brushing his hair, he ran his fingers through it, gently scratching the scalp. Ian felt his shoulders relax against his will. He leaned back into Vasco’s warmth.

“You need a haircut.” He commented. Pressing a kiss into the top of his head. Vasco slipped away, unlacing his own boots, setting them beside Ian’s at the door. As he made his way back to the bed, he removed his shirt and trousers. Languidly, he picked a book from the bedside table. Ian watched him in the mirror, but didn’t move to join him until the man climbed into the bed and pat the spot beside him. 

_ “Now fearfulness, and now hopefulness _

_ Pitch camp in every part of my heart” _He began to read out. As he did, De Sardet disrobed and burrowed his way under the covers, Vasco at once wrapping his arm around him and pulling him close.

_ “Neither, in war, can take the victor’s part, _

_ Equal in fortitude and forcefulness. _

_ Now filled with confidence, now doubtfulness, _”

Ian rested his head on Vasco’s chest, his palm swept slowly up the flat muscled expanse of his abdomen, coming to rest where his thumb could stroke firm, but lazy over his sternum. He luxuriated in the warmth of him, his scent, the strength of his heartbeat. The vibration of that rich and sweet voice as he read. Pausing here and there to press kisses into his lover’s hair. 

_ “I promise deliverance to my captive heart, _

_ Trying in vain to fool myself by art, _

_ Between hope, and doubt, and fearfulness.” _

They sat in silence for a moment, Vasco’s eyes shut, breathing in the scent of Ian’s hair, hand stroking up and down his arm. Ian placed a kiss on his chest, between strokes of sweeping ink-work.

“I will miss you so Vasco.” He confessed, looking up into his eyes. He raised up to capture his lips. They wrapped around one another hands grasping palms stroking. The kiss grew less desperate, more heated. The book long since discarded tumbled to the ground, the loud thump it made unnoticed by the lovers. 

Vasco pushed De Sardet onto his back, rolling on top of him. They moaned and gasped and sighed, bodies moving together like churning waves. It was natural, this thing between them, like breathing. Their hands touched to remember. Smoothing over gooseflesh and tattoos and scars. Their kisses sung their love. Each roll of hips was a vow, a declaration of love. When they moved together, Ian surged like the tempest. Vasco was the only one who could quell him. He stayed the tempestuous waves of their passion, until they were both satiated, clinging panting against one another on love’s shore.

In the morning, they said their farewells. And with the tide, Vasco was gone. Ian couldn’t bring himself to see Vasco to the dock, he didn’t trust he would let the man go. So, DeSardet stared out the window, gaze toward the docks, hoping to see any sign of his love returning. As if there were a sign to be had from this vantage. As if he really expected him to return. But he hoped. 

He hoped, fixated on that hope like lifeline. Until his eyes blinked down tears onto his desk below the widow. A tear saturated an envelope he had not noticed before. He took it up and recognizing Vasco’s elegant scrawl, he ripped it open. 

_ My Tempest, _

_ I must admit I feel like a colossal arse leaving you like this. You are grieving, and I am leaving you to go through it alone. I am sorry that I couldn’t be of more comfort to you. I am sorry I couldn’t get through to you. _

_ But the sea calls, and alas, you are pushing me away. I keep telling myself that space is what you actually need. It won’t be forever, and I will be thinking of you every moment. I pray the wind brings me swiftly back to your side. _

  
  


_ Am I making a mistake? _

_ I love you always, _

_ V. _

Tears fell unbidden then, unable to stop. He wept and wept, until his tears ran dry and his head throbbed, until he fell into a hopefully unending sleep.

In his dreams, he saw Constantin, smiling and carefree. Running from him, driven by mischief. DeSardet chased after him, concerned by his innocent smile, calling after him, “Cousin! Cousin, wait!”

Constantin paid no mind running, and laughing, and running, until he was lost to him. Whispers of native tongue drifting in and out, but he didn’t recognize a word. He finally caught up to him, and Constnatin grasped his forearms, spinning him in a jolly circle, giggling all the while.

_ “Come, Cousin! Let us celebrate! It is all over now. All over, thanks to you, Cousin!” _As his grasp tightened dangerously, his fingers turned unnaturally pale, and then all together black, grip tightening, the blackened veins carrying up his wrists, and forearms. 

Ian tried to pull away, but his eyes found his cousin’s, smiling madly, eyes too alive and all the while dead. Those eyes, rimmed in red, sunken and blackened, blue turned white, piercing with a manic and alien quality Ian never did recognize. This was not his Constantin. “Not my Constantin!”

_“Then what am I, deaaaaar Cousin?” _He sang, then his hands shot up to grasp the sides of Ianto’s face, fingers digging into the birthmark at his jaw, “What are you…. COUSIN?!”

He shot up in bed, with a scream , sweat dripping from his brow, panting breaths falling from his lips. He fought then with the covers, until he was free from the bed, panic pounding in his chest. His eyes gazed rapidly around, ready for Constantin’s deathly visage to jump out for him at any moment. 

Heavy footfalls toward, and his door flung open. Kurt stood there, eyes wild with sleep and concern, snapping to his in immediate relief. “What the hell is wrong, Greenblood?!” 

“I- I’m sorry Kurt I, truly didn’t mean to concern you.” He relaxed from the wall he had unknowingly pressed his back against, stumbling toward grasping the bed post to steady himself.

“You look like hell, De Sardet.” Kurt grunted, is shoulders relaxing. He sat heavily in the chair at the vanity, facing Ian with a concerned frown. “Dreams that bad?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, his eyes too.

Ian sat himself on the edge of the bed, looking down to his quivering hands. It was then he noticed tears were still falling. He scrubbed roughly at his eyes. Overwhelmed by the scrutiny of his master of arms in this moment of weakness. But he had nothing else to hold onto, and so the tears continued to fall. He tried to explain, but all that fell from his lips were broken sobs and moans of deepest pain. 

He squeezed his eyes shut to the pain, collapsing in on himself, hoping he would just implode, and the pain would cease all together. But it did not, alas, the only thing to keep him from bursting into a puddle of pitiful emotion was the strong warm arm he found wrapped around his shoulders. He buried his sobbing face into one broad shoulder, all at once familiar, and unknown. He had never been this close to Kurt. Kurt, who kept himself at such a distance all these years. 

It wasn’t lost on Ian, that the thing to bring them, bloodthirsty and numb as they were, close after all this time was the loss of one such optimist as Constantin. Kurt turned into him, his fingers grasping his hair, pulling him close. DeSardet almost thought he heard a sob escape the Coin Guard. But he didn’t dare analyze it. All he could manage was to cling to him, let the sobs shake him through, until they settled, together, heart heavy breaths until they pulled apart, each of them, staring at their hands. 

“You must be missing your sailor at a time like this.” Kurt said in jest. Earning a chuckle from De Sardet.

“And who would you miss in grief, Kurt? Your Wet Nurse? We really must get you courting, my friend.” He jabbed, scrubbing away the last of his tears.

“Ha-ha.” Kurt drove his shoulder into Ian’s, both men chuckling now. “What a sight we must be, huh? At least Constantin knew how to laugh things off…”

"That he did.” Ian confirmed through a shaking sigh.

“You know you aren’t to blame for his fate, Green Blood?” 

“I- I am the one who sunk the blade into his heart. My sweet prince, he didn’t deserve it.” 

“No, no… He went down the wrong path, lad, but he earned what he got.” He clapped a hand on Ian’s shoulder as he rose, “And that was not your fault, Ianto.” 

When Ian looked up, he found Kurt staring intently into his eyes, he was very serious. He only ever saw this look in his eye when drilling life saving maneuvers into him. So for the moment, he decided to believe him.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my first post! I am writing this head canon in my spare time. I hope you come to enjoy it. 
> 
> Poem was written by French poet Pierre De Ronsard- Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIII. Translation found here:  
www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/French/Ronsard.php


	2. Dieter’s Daughter

Chapter 2- Dieter’s Daughter

Weeks passed much the same. Ianto went through his day helping those who came to call at the governor's manor. Many small tasks about New Serene kept his attention. Merchant scuffle here, native issues there. Kurt was content to stay by his side through the doldrums. His presence was welcome, his imposing figure discouraging the more aggressive callers. Though De Sardet often felt like a glorified errand boy, it was clear that tensions were beginning to ease between the natives and the foreign nations. They were beginning to understand each other and, more importantly, to respect one another. 

For Ianto, the hardest part about the work was being in the Governor’s Palace: where Constantin had been, where he should still yet be. He found himself often needing to be in his office. Looking over documents filled in his cousins hand, notes sometimes drawn in the corners, doodles in the margins- it was strange. He smiled at that, although his heart still broke.

This day, a spat between the naughts and the congregation over some shipment incorrectly logged led him to dig through Constantin’s files. He didn’t find the document in question, but he did find Constantin’s journal. Hesitantly he opened it to the first page. He shut it right away, slamming the book down sharply as he rose. A cloud of dust lingered in the air as he quickly slipped from the room, eager to put as much distance between himself and that book as he could.

He marched outside and proclaimed, “My apologies, this matter will have to be settled at a later date. Please assure Admiral Cabral I will be with her as soon as I find the relevant documents.” He gestured as politely as possible toward the door. The two bickering representatives shared flustered glances before making for the door.

Kurt assured the room was cleared before he approached De Sardet, his scarred brow raised in concern. “Alright there Greenblood?” 

“Fine Kurt, fine.” He made to sit on the ‘throne’, but straightened at the last moment. He turned and eyed the offending chair, he could still see his Cousin there. Scrubbing at the scruff of his chin, “Care for a drink, Kurt?” 

Kurt hummed, as he eyed De Sardet. pulling off his helmet, “I could always go for a drink…” 

They found themselves at the tavern. One drink in, De Sardet had a brilliant idea, “Let’s go down for a challenge!”

They fought, they won. The duo had changed out of their battle gear and were chuckling to one another as they used the basin to wipe away excess sweat and errant blood gathering around the odd wound. 

“Well done gentlemen.” Came a sensuous voice, tinted with a lilt of amusement. The men turned to the woman. De Sardet smiled graciously, while Kurt gazed appraisingly, eyebrow cocked. 

He liked what he saw: a rather tall woman, curved figure, curly hair- pinned up, sun warmed olive skin, bright brown eyes dancing with mirth. Her full lips grinned revealing sparkling white teeth and a hint of a gap, was it? Kurt wanted to know.

“Why thank you, M’Lady.” Ian responded.

Kurt nodded slightly, doing his best to keep his gaze on her eyes. Her eyes Kurt! He chastised himself.

“Join me upstairs for a drink when you’re done. My treat, it’s only fair when you’ve entertained me so thoroughly.” With a wink, she turned on a heel and swept from the dank arena. 

Kurt let out a huff as the door closed behind her. “Well then.” 

With a chuckle, Ian said, “Oh really now?” He glanced to the door wagging his brow, “Shall we?” Once they were serviceably clean and redressed in their regular gear they made their way upstairs.

The woman was at the bar, laughing with the bar keep as he signed some sort of slip to hand back to her. She leaned on the bar, elbow propped, chin resting on her ungloved palm. She still had that wicked grin as she waited for the bar keep to produce three glasses and uncork a bottle of dark liquor. He placed them on a tray for her and she thanked him before turning to the men, now exiting the stairwell. 

She nodded toward an empty table and went to take up the tray, but Kurt beat her to it. She smirked up at him holding still, so he had to lean in rather close to grab for the tray. He matched her smirk as he looked down at her, this time failing to school his admiration for her bosom. With a breathy chuckle and a subtle shake of her head, she turned and made her way to the table where Ian had a chair pulled out for her.

They settled in comfortably as she took the bottle in hand. 

“I think you’ll enjoy this more than the gut-rot you were drinking earlier.” She whispered conspiratorially, pouring them two fingers each. She slid the men their glasses, and leant back in her chair, crossing her legs as she did. With a quirk of a brow, she raised her glass, “Proost.” she called.

“Cheers.” The men responded. 

The liquor was heady, yet smooth. There was a woody flavor present in the bouquet, with a slightly floral aftertaste. It was far superior,indeed, than the average tavern swill. There was something complicated in it, something to savor. It brought a smile to De Sardet’s face.

“Mm, this is lovely.” He admitted, taking another sip. 

“Yes, delicious. Didn’t know Segrit even carried any decent booze.” Kurt agreed, sliding down more comfortably into his seat. 

“Well the booze is new. Father got the idea from you an your Naut, I reckon.” She giggled, taking an earnest swig.

“Your father?” Ian wondered, “Ah, yes! Of course, you’re Dieter’s daughter?” 

“Yes, that’s right. Aulora.” She confirmed.

“Well, pleased to properly meet you my lady.” Said Ian with a deeply respectful nod. “I am Ianto De Sardet, Legate of the Merchant Congregation on Tir Fradee (he rushed through the title). You can call me Ian. And this is Captain Kurt, fiercest of all Coin Guards.” 

“Just Kurt will do.” He complained, rolling his eyes at Ian’s flair. Between the fight and the drink, the man was a lightweight, and he tended to exaggerate when under the influence. 

“Well met, my lords.” She took another thoughtful swig, her portion swallowed down already. The men moved to catch up with her. “I’ve heard such stories about the Legate and his band of radicals, all of them quite delightful.” 

“Well surely, they can’t all be true.” De Sardet said, slightly distracted as he watched her nimbly pour another few fingers for them all. 

“Oh no? How rather dull.” She pouted, jokingly of course. Aulora sipped at her glass, her sharp gaze drifting to Kurt, who seemed to be watching her quite closely. “I’m sure you have some stories to tell, Kurt, is it? One doesn’t collect so many scars without the stories to match.”

Kurt scoffed, “That tends to be true, my Lady. But, alas, such stories are not made for days like today.” 

“Like today?”

“Victorious days, my Lady, those to be celebrated.” He boasted, raising his glass once more. 

“Indeed!” called Ian. The group chuckled as they sipped at their glasses. 

The group shared polite conversation through half of the bottle before Kurt excused himself to find the privy. 

“This is quite a delightful spirit. Where ever does it come from?” Ian wondered aloud. 

“From here, M’Lord.” Aulora answered, “‘Tis one of mine. Used wild flowers in the distilling.” She mused, holding the glass up to a beam of light from the setting sun. Gazing at the liquid through the amber glass. 

“This was the fourth batch. The first three were rather bitter, truly. I managed to find homes for the latter two, but the first went straight into the fire! It was terrible…” She chortled, poured another portion for them. 

“That is quite impressive, Aulora.” He thoughtfully took another sip, trying to match the flavors to what he knew of the local flora. He couldn’t pin point them, but this spirit certainly tasted of Tir Fradee. 

“Could I order a case, or two?” He asked, studying her over the rim of his glass. 

“Well, I have a couple bottles left of this batch. It’s quite seasonal. Won’t have another batch of this ‘til next year. They’re yours if you want them!” Just then Kurt sat himself back at the table. 

“I’ll be bottling the next batch this evening actually.” 

“Did you know she distills this herself, Kurt?” DeSardet mentioned as the Coin Guard settled in. 

“Ah, so she’s beautiful and clever. Quite a dangerous mix.” He joked, causing a surprised bark of laughter to escape the young lady. 

“Oh, now Captain, you flatter me.” With a glance out the window she continued, “Well I had better get back to work before I lose the daylight. I’ll bring you those bottles tomorrow, if you like.” 

With a flurry of grace unnatural for someone quite so many drinks in, she rose from the table, donned her hat, shouldered her leather bag, gave a shallow curtsy to the two men and was gone. 

“Oh I think you’re in trouble there, Kurt.” Ian poked, grinning at the man with a knowing expression. 

“You don’t know the half of it Green Blood.” He mused, gazing at the door after her.

The men finished their bottle and stumbled their way back home, grateful the way wasn’t far. Cards and reminiscing filled the rest of their evening, eventually Kurt fell asleep on the lounge and Ian made his way up the stairs to his quarters. 

Finally alone, gloom began to creep on him. He distractedly gazed at Vasco’s side of the bed as he disrobed and washed for the night, imagining the man reclined there book of poetry in one hand, pipe in the other. He could almost hear that smooth voice, see the twinkle in his eye as he delighted over the story those words wove. 

The aesthete had taken most of his favorite titles with him but he left one on the nightstand. Ian had a feeling that Vasco had left it just for him. That thought warmed him, pushing some of the pain from his mind. He sat tenderly at the bed’s edge and felt around for the matches. After fumbling with the blasted things for too long (How many drinks was that?) he eased back against Vasco’s pillow and opened up to his favorite poem. Before he could finish it, he was fast asleep. 

It was near noon when Aulora arrived at the De Sardet residence. She found herself strangely nervous as she raised her hand to knock upon the door. The thought of those cold blue calculating eyes sent her core into knots. She ran her raised hand over her curls, hoping the windy morning hadn’t left her too mussed. Deciding she was composed enough, what did it matter anyway , she finally knocked. 

She cleared her throat and shuffled her feet. She glanced down and brushed at the fading green bodice of her skirt, pulled absently at the belt tied there. The door was pulled open as she was about to knock again. 

Kurt squinted, hells it was brighter out than he thought. When his eyes fell upon her standing there, shouldering that heavy leather bag, it took him a moment to remember he should invite her in. “Mornin’.” He grunted, rougher than he meant, he hadn’t really spoken all morning. 

Aulora took in the sight. The man wasn’t in his normal armor, he wore a simple loose white shirt and a pair of brown breeches. His hair wasn’t slicked back as usual, a few thick graying strands fell into his handsomely scarred face. But even barefooted and unarmed the man seemed exhilaratingly dangerous. He stepped back to allow her in, grabbing the bag from her as she passed. The brush of that strong hand against her shoulder shouldn’t have excited her as much as it did. 

“Not a morning person I gather?” His only answer was a noncommittal grunt. “Yes well to be fair, it is almost noon .” She drifted through the room, gravitating toward the fire. 

“I’ve learned to enjoy the slow mornings when they come, my lady.” He set the bag on a narrow table at the end of the room. “Coffee?” 

She nodded slowly settling herself into the chair nearest the fire. On the table beside was a set of small blades and a cloth, Kurt must have been cleaning them when she arrived. She took one of the daggers in hand, though the handle was worn, probably re-wrapped dozens of times, the metal gleamed like well loved jewelry. 

He moved far more silent than a man of that stature had the right to. He was suddenly next to her, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Aulora jumped at his sudden proximity, in her joust she managed to slice into her left palm. With a hiss she let the blade clatter to the floor, blood dripped from her clinched palm onto the green skirt she wore. 

“Hoo,” Kurt cooed as he knelt. He snatched a napkin off the table to cradle her bleeding hand, gently pressing into the long clean slice. Thankfully the thing wasn’t very deep- still hands and heads bled dramatically. 

“Hold that there.” He commanded. She barely registered his words, entranced by his warm large rough hands on her own. He only waited for her to make eye contact before raising up and disappeared through a door near the stairs. 

With another hiss, she glanced down at her hand, her favorite skirt was likely ruined. It took her a moment to convince herself the small amount of blood wasn’t what was making her feel faint. 

Kurt returned quickly with a bandage and a damp cloth. He knelt next to her again, giving her a small smile to hopefully calm her. He assumed she must be panicked her silence and the flush in her cheeks and the wideness of her eyes. 

She groaned, “I’m terribly embarrassed.” 

“No need.” He reassured, “Have much experience with blades?” He asked, settling back. 

“Oh, aye, I’m a right genius with a meat cleaver.” She mumbled, blushing at her stupidity. 

“Well I don’t doubt that.” He chuckled. He tied the bandage off and plucked the knife up off the rug where she had dropped it. 

He knelt there, gazing up at her face for a moment, for a moment he felt as if he wasn’t in his own body anymore. There was something in her warm complexion, in the way her brown eyes locked onto his. The flickering light from the hearth made those beautiful globes dance. There was a vulnerability there that caused Kurt’s worn and calloused heart to stutter to life in his chest. 

Just as he was about to speak, the front door swung open. De Sardet strode in, eyeing Kurt bewildered at his position on the ground before he noticed Aulora sitting in his chair. 

“Ah, good afternoon Aulora, Kurt! How goes it, then?” He asked, setting his coat on the hook by the door. 

“Oh, the day is fine m’lord.” Aulora answered, standing once Kurt rose from the ground. 

“Yes, the sun is quite lovely in New Serene today.” He supplied, plucking the hat from his head,. Under his breath he finished, “The people less so.” 

The day had been at least productive for De Sardet, he’d gotten through a good portion of the mammoth stack of queries left on Constantin’s desk. He dealt with some of the more petty callers, some of whom were quite miffed to have been dismissed the day before. That elusive contract that the Naughts had been complaining about finally appeared so he was able to get that squared away. He had to go to the docks to speak to Cabral about the details, thankfully she was satisfied. Though, Ianto had a feeling that she wouldn’t have ribbed him much on the issue regardless, if the look of pity in her eye were any indication. 

The soft smile on her face made Ianto wonder what Cabral knew of such separation? Or did she just feel for him knowing his history of loss. Either way it wasn’t a look he cared to have directed at him, it made it hard for him to keep his mask of nobility in place. 

Before he could make his way from the docks, and the breeze that sang Vasco’s memory, he was stopped by a young runner. The lad called after him glanced up into his eye furtively, handed him a scroll of parchment and ran back toward the docks. Ian halted for a moment, struck with confusion, but continued on his way. He turned the parchment over in his fingers anxious over its contents, but shoved the thing in his inner coat pocket, keeping it for when he was safe behind his own door. 

The whole walk home his mind was fraught with anxious thoughts of Vasco, was it news of him? Was he well? Gods he hoped he was well. It was killing him not to have eyes on the man. He knew he was more than capable of looking after himself, and others to boot. But recent events had left Ian paranoid and raw, worried over every last thing. He even found himself worrying over Kurt of late, and that man certainly needed no one fussing over him. And so his heart pounded ten fold with every step that brought him home. 

Aulora could see the tension written across the younger man’s face. She moved around Kurt to place a hand on his shoulder, offering a smile she said, “Well, many of the people here are entitled twats, don’t worry your head on it.” 

That brought a surprised laugh from the melancholy man. “Ah, sadly true. You are a wise woman.” 

Said woman pulled a face at Kurt and elbowed his rib stating, “Hear that? Wise!” She giggled, “Haven’t gotten that before. Well, I’ve come with gifts.” 

She clapped her hands. Her leather bag was indeed full of goodies, she pulled out five bottles, two of which were capped with the same red waxed cork as what they enjoyed yesterday, while the others were corked with green. 

“Oh my, my…” Ian admired. The green corked bottles had stamped labels which read - Daughter’s Distilly with a handwritten bottled date. 

“This is lovely, Aulora. How much do I owe you?” He asked, holding a bottle to his chest like treasure. 

“Oh, please, truly. It’s a gift, for new friends. I only hope that you enjoy them in good health.”

“My goodness Aulora, I simply couldn’t!” She waved him away, “It’s too much!” He continued. 

“Your Naught came through on his bargain with my father. We now have growing business in San Mateus, and that’s thanks to you really. So please! Take the gift!” She says with a smile, Ian finds the small gap in her teeth irresistibly charming. 

“Besides, my father thought to send you a few of the women for the night but I thought better of it.” She winked at him. Kurt barked out a howl of a laugh behind her. 

“Well,” Ian chuckled blushing slightly, “I thank you Aulora.” 

“Absolutely!” She smiled. 

“Will you stay a while, Aulora? I’m sure we could scare you up something to eat.”

“Oh sure, I can stay a while. My deliveries will keep.” She said, folding her hands in front of her with a pleasant smile. 

She followed the men into the kitchen at the back of the house. There was a small terrace beyond, warm sunlight filtered through. It was a peaceful place. Her attention was pulled from the garden when she heard the fellows bickering, and then chuckling between one another. She watched them prepare a simple breakfast, that was all they had makings for, alas. They worked side by side at first, then Kurt leaned against the counter laughing as Ian nearly burnt the eggs, offering jabs veiled as helpful suggestions. She smiled despite herself, feeling quite lucky to see these two imposing men reduced to chuckling over burnt breakfast. 

They sat at the small kitchen table talking and laughing over the modest meal. Aulora told of what it was like to be raised by Dieter. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. Kurt shared a few embarrassing stories of training Ian in his youth. Thankfully he left out stories involving Constantin. 

After another cup of coffee, Ian excused himself to go to his room. Once safely behind the door, his back pressed against it, he reached into his coat and produced the scroll. He moved over to his desk and carefully untolled the parchment. He recognized Vasco’s writing from the first- 

“My Tempest,” It read, 

“I hope this finds you well. We arrived on the island this morning, the winds were fair, made quick work of the journey. Work on the ships should be starting bright and early. It's a beautiful day, I wish you were here. I think the beach would suit you. Oh, what I’d give to see that hair of yours in this light, those eyes... 

You asked me if I missed the sea. To be honest, being back at sea was glorious, but your absence has made the sensation less free, more sorrowful. The sun seemed dimmer, the sound of the waves muffled. I didn’t want to hear the whales cry, or see the sun rise over the endless ocean. I only wanted to hear your voice, to see your smile again. I never thought I would doubt my place on the sea, but without you, it is not home. 

I miss you terribly, my love. 

Always, V. 

P.S. I really shouldn’t be taking advantage of the gulls for my personal communication. But, alas, my position has afforded me this opportunity, I shan't miss it. If you wish to send me word, find the lad that delivered this letter. I helped him out of some trouble a while back, he’ll be discreet.” 

He clutched the parchment to his chest, invigorated at the words. He could almost hear Vasco’s voice. He smiled staring down at the letters again, he imagined Vasco’s agile tattooed hands writing the words, rolling the parchment. He smiled at the idea of Vasco enjoying the sunshine, lingering by the lapping waves, pants rolled up, toes digging in the sand. It filled him with calm and joy to imagine him at peace. It brought him joy to imagine himself alongside him one day, enjoying that particular light, that particular sea. He laid back in his chair, imagining the warmth of that sun, and drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I doubt I’m the only one who was intrigued by the mention of Dieter’s Daughter during Vasco’s mission at the docks. So I thought I’d feel her out. Let me know what you think!


	3. The Local Native

Chapter 3- The Local Native

A few sharp knocks woke Ianto with a jolt. He shot up from his seat bleary eyed, heart hammering in his chest. He moved to the door in a blur, pulled the door open with a deep frown etching his forehead. It was Kurt of course, leaning against the doorway, eyebrow raised.

“Well I’ve been callin ya, lad.” He smirked at the other man’s dismay. Clearly he had woken him unceremoniously. 

“Oh,” Came more like an _ ugh, _“I fell asleep, my apologies. Is it urgent?” He attempted to focus himself, rubbing his hands over his pale face, passing them through his disheveled hair. He let out a huff of breath before following Kurt down the stairs. 

“Yeh, urgent message from Vignamri. Figured you would want to hear it.” Kurt said, gesturing toward the door. “The runner’s waiting for you at the Palace.” 

Ian smoothed out his shirt grabbed his jacket from the hook and went for the door only to be stopped by Kurt’s steady hand on his shoulder. He gave the man an inquisitive look. 

“You’ve got somethin’.” He gestured at the redhead’s face, “Ya know, right there.” 

Ian followed his gesture, wiping at his mouth, feeling a streak of dried drool. He gasped and moved to the mirror on the wall, scrubbing at his face and adjusting his hair again until satisfied. 

Ian didn’t realize how much his nap had disoriented him until he opened the door to be assaulted by the bright light of the sun at twilight. 

Their foot falls crunched over the fallen leaves of the season. The air was chill and Ian was thankful, the brisk breeze helped focus him. They arrived at the palace in no time. As they ascended the stairs they could hear the guards murmuring to one another. They seemed concerned about what was happening in the room.

Ian braced himself and swung open the doors. The scene wasn’t as bad as he had expected. A guard stood trying to calm the native who was yelling an unintelligible mix of yecht and common tongue, visibly panicked.

“What seems to be the issue?” Ian demanded as he approached the man. “Peace, my friend, we will find a solution.” He comforted, placing a hand on the mans shoulder in to help calm him. 

The man turned to him, eyes wild with anxiety. “On ol minawe! The mind shakers are encroaching! It’s our sacred land. They have no right!”

“Priests? What are they doing there?”

“They say they have business in our land, but that land is the home of our fathers, we cannot allow it. Since Ullan stepped down we are so separated. We need help On ol Minowe!”

“Alright, I will come right away. Don’t worry. I will speak to these priests and see what I can do.” Ian assures the man, he seems sorrowful but more calm than when he arrived. 

Kurt and Ian returned to the residence to discuss the matter further. They decided to pack up and head out immediately. Ian retired to his chamber to prepare. He selected his armor and weaponry thoughtfully, setting the armor aside to don, and the weapons to pack. 

Before making to leave, he sat at his desk intent on returning Vasco’s letter. He raised the quill several times before finally touching it to paper. With a smile he wrote the words he wished he could speak to his man. This was a poor substitute but it filled him with warmth all the same. He signed, placed a kiss on the page that Vasco would never notice, and rolled the pages before tucking in his inner breast pocket. 

The men stopped by the docks, where De Sardet made his discreet exchange with you young naught runner. After that they were off in a wagon for a night of travel to Glendgnámvár.

The sun was fading fast this time of year. Along with the darkness came cold and silence. Many of the wild beasts were taking to sleeping all hours over their normal hunting patterns. 

The natives didn’t seem concerned, but it was new to Ian. He was consistently fascinated by this place. Every new day awoke in him a deeper love and affection for this land that was indeed his home. Each day the earth called more and more to his heart. 

If he was being truthful, this trip was just what he needed. He hadn’t really left New Serene since Constantin’s death, and those streets and walls were becoming his grieving shroud. 

But this, the road rumbling beneath them, the sounds of nature calling beyond, the brisk wild air- well it made him feel alive again. It made him forget for a moment the warmth of Constantin’s black blood on his hands.

Ian’s gaze drifted from the landscape to Kurt’s rather pensive figure set across from him. The expression gracing his face was one which Ian had never seen on the man. Kurt’s lips were known for being drawn into a severe line. That is, when they were not wrapped round a smoke, or spitting commands at lesser men. Never had it such a pleasant quirk, just a little up at the corner, just enough apparently to trigger a release of tension from his entire face. 

Ian decided he liked the look on him. And as much as it pained him to disturb such a rare moment, he was too curious to let it pass.

“So Kurt,” he began tinderly, hoping not to spook the man. However the mask snapped back to attention before his name was even spoken. 

“Greenblood?” He cleared his throat, straightening.

“What do you make of Aulora?” His eyes flicked to Kurt’s, who in turn returned his gaze to the road. “She is quite the handsome woman, is she not?” He continued when no answer was given.

At first a snort was his only answer until finally, “She is a lovely girl, that is no lie.” 

“Yes, quite. And industrious to boot.” 

“She does seem quite clever.” Ian stares at his face, hoping to read anything. But the old soldier remained stoic. Ever a rock.

“Her eyes are-“ Unable to find the words he simply popped his lips as his he raised his hands, his fingers spreading outward mimicking an explosion. At this Kurt couldn’t help but smirk, eyebrow quirked in amusement, shaking his head at his student’s antics.

“Aye, she’s beautiful, I’ll admit it.” His tone said- _ Let’s end this conversation now. _ Ian’s face simply read- _ No! _

Ian sat up and leaned toward Kurt conspiratorially, “She seems to have taken a shine to you.” His eyes simply danced with mischief. 

“Oh hush Green Blood.” His icy blues rolling to the back of his head in annoyance. “No way a fresh young flower like her would be interested in rough old soldier like me.”

“You are _ hardly _ old, Kurt.” It was true, Ian didn’t exactly know the man's age. From the time he had known him, he always seemed infinitely wiser, infinitely stronger.

“The life I’ve lived lad, it’s worn me, made me cold. I haven’t the warmth to give a girl like that.” He seemed resigned to fully believe his own words.

“Oh Kurt I doubt that. I have seen stranger things. And I believe you have as well.” He said with a warm smile, leaning back into his seat. 

He kept his eyes on Kurt. He noted the way the man now looked down at his own hands. As if he were reading his scars, remembering the moments that marked him. Ian felt something stir inside him. There was something about Kurt in that moment, something he rarely showed. A vulnerability.

He had seen this in him very few times. The last being when he told him the truth of what had happened to him in his youth. Of what Major Herman had done to him, and many others. It was this expression that made him want to reach out to the man, comfort him in some small way. But he knew he wouldn’t have any of it.

“You may be right lad, but we’re a long way from thinking about settling down in this place. We still have hard work ahead of us.” 

“You’re right, Kurt, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a moment of peace where it’s found.” 

Kurt sat on this for a while as silence drew on between them. The rumble of the wheels on the road filling the space. 

“Do you allow yourself that?” Kurt asked, quietly, eyes cutting to him from the road. “With Vasco I mean. How do you not just shut down?”

He was looking into Ian now, those eyes. He knew. He had heard them argue. He had probably heard it all, every vicious word conjured by misplaced pain, the crash of objects thrown in anger, the making up afterwards. Ian didn’t handle his demons as well as he let on. And Vasco was the first to know. 

“It seems- I am not an easy man.” _ Understatement _, he chastised himself mentally. Looking guiltily at his hands. “I am lucky that he has been so patient with me, in my grief. To be true, I had shut down, but he was kind enough to give me the room and patience to open up again on my own.”

“I suppose when you make your life at sea, you learn to be patient.” Kurt commented thoughtfully. 

“Yes, well... It is a privilege to be loved so steadily. A rough old fool like yourself could benefit I think.” Ian jabbed. 

“Never pegged you for a romantic De Sardet.” Kurt said with a grin breathing out heavily from his nose. He rested his head back and shut his eyes. 

Ian decided not to push any further and instead he pulled Vasco letter from his breast pocket again. He read it over and over until the words and the soft rumble of travel lulled him to contentment.

As they came upon Vignàmri, Ianto was jolted. There was something unsure in his gut. An anxiety, but he knew not what of. He pushed himself from the carriage, pulling his bag along behind him. He made quick work of tipping the caravan driver. Unable to focus clearly with the pounding in his head. He was halfway down the road when he heard Kurt calling after him. He barely slowed, glancing back to see them man jogging up to him. 

“What are you about, Green Blood?” Came his concerned voice.

“I have a bad feeling, Kurt, we must hurry.” 

The pair hurried up the road that led into the village. They quickly stored their excess supplies at the camp and made their way through the tall bones. Ian went first to see Slàn, hoping she would have some insight to the apparent issue with the Theleme Missionaries in the area. She advised them to go to the tent nearest the woods to the North. (Not before fussing over his growing hair and hugging him four times.) The man would apparently have their answers.

The tent was easy to find, it was placed apart from the others, just so. It seemed this man had a desire for privacy. Ian peeked in, a man sat meditating by the fire. He entered cautiously, announcing his arrival with a soft, “Hello?” He raised his eyes to the men as they entered slowly.

“Come.” The man held up a hand, motioned them closer. 

“Are you Aodhán, the seer?”

He removed his head dress to reveal tousled curly ash blond hair, sparkling green eyes, and a vibrant smile. Ian couldn’t help but smile back. He didn’t seem at all like a hermit.

“Yes.” Acknowledged the seer, rising from the ground. “And you are the native renaigse who has saved our island. It is a joy to finally meet you.”

Kurt elbowed the legate when he spent to long staring instead of answering the man. 

“Y-yes! I am Ianto De Sardet. Legate to the Congregation of Merchants, and this is Captain Kurt, of the Coin Guard. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.” Ian tried to ignore the knowing look Kurt was giving him and the flush that was creeping on him, betraying his cool exterior.

With a scoff and a wave of the hand the seer responded, “Please, it is no trouble. You are here to help us, after all, no?” Though his words were lighthearted, those green eyes were penetrating. They seemed to hold a wisdom beyond time.

“Yes, Vignamri is very special to me, I could not stand by.” 

“Mmm, Slan has told me of your connection to our land. It is your true home.” 

“Y-yes…” When did he become so bollix? Anyway, Aodhán didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at him like he _ knew. _He grasped his shoulder, steering him toward the tent’s opening.

“Come, I will show you these _ Mind Shakers. _They seem to forget their place.” 

“I’ll stay here, in case they come pestering the people again.” Kurt said once they were outside. 

Ian was hesitant but he couldn’t think on it long as the seer strode toward the woods. To Ian, the path they took seemed quite aimless. No paths had been tread where they stepped, but the seer seemed completely sure of his swift footing. They soon came to the camp of the Theleme missionaries. They watched from a safe distance. “Have they been violent?” Ian asks, trying to decide if he should go back for Kurt fist.

“They have been non violent, but stubborn and rude as Ulg. They deny our claim to this land.” Aodhán answered, eyes narrowing. 

“I will try speaking with them. But I’ll need you to remain calm.” Ian said looking back over his shoulder, jumping slightly to see the man was closer than he thought. Strangely he didn’t mind it.

The man practically guffawed, “Of course I can _ remain calm, _ it is these brutes who cannot.” He nearly spat. Ian’s mouth twisted as he considered his options. This might be a mistake, but he chose to go with it.

With a deep breath Ian emerged from cover and approached the camp. They seemed to be idle at the moment, it was as good a time as any.

“Greetings, you all seem to be far away from home.” Ian stated.

“Ah, can I help you, sir?” Asked a young woman, all innocent eyes and anxious stance. 

“Who leads you, girl?” Ian asked with a smile. He attempted to decipher her body language without adding to her obvious tension. 

“It is Father Virgil, sir. But he is away at the moment. Anything I can help you with?” She asked, her eyes almost seeming tearful. It was disconcerting. 

“Sir Virgil you say? So this is where he managed to sneak off to?” Ian shook his head, he would need Kurt indeed. 

“Sir?” The girl asked.

“Where has he gone?” 

“He, well I cannot say sir.” She admitted, suddenly the ground was very interesting to her.

“What is he up to? If you don’t tell me, I assure you I will find out. If he is up to no good, do you really want to be a part of that?” Her eyes welled up, Ian braced himself for the blubber. He pushed her too far.

“I’m so sorry sir!” She whispered, moving closer. “He has been watching the villagers for some time. He seeks the power of some sacred place. We have been searching nearby for some relic.”  
  
“What is this relic he seeks?” 

“There are rumors that the voices of the dead can be heard here. According to lore there is a pendant of some sort that can allow the voices to be heard by any who wears it.” She led him a bit further away from the camp as the others began to notice their conversation.

“It’s just that I’ve come to know some of the people here, I know he believes what he seeks lies in a sacred place of rest for these people. It does feel right to disturb it. Please, perhaps you can convince him.” 

Ian considered her for a moment, she was sincere. Whatever brought her here was genuine. He looked over her shoulder and saw the furtive glares of some of the others. She wouldn’t be safe here after speaking with him. 

“Come with me then. I fear you your fellows don’t share your concern. You will be safer with me.” She looked back and decided he was probably right. She followed along behind the two as they made their way back to Vignamri.

“This relic she speaks of is unfamiliar to me. There are things left by the ancestors, buried with them near the village, true. But these things hold no magic, it was the connection to the earth that provided such. If this Virgil is after a relic of such power, I fear he will attempt to enter the Voices’ Rest. It is a special place, it cannot be disturbed.” Aodhán explained. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, fiddled with a braided lock there.

“Will a Guardian be protecting this place?”

“Yes, but it is also said a curse befalls those foolish enough to disturb the ancestors’ rest. Only seers and scribes are allowed to enter.” He said lowly, drawing close to Ian likely hoping the missionary girl following along wouldn’t hear. Ian gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“We will find a way to stop this fool before he desecrates the resting place of your people. He got away from me once, he will die before he does so again.” He vowed. 

As they approached Vignamri, shouts rang out. There was a clash of metal and sounds of a scuffle. Ian drew his pistol as they approached the scene. Kurt was standing over Virgil, sword to his neck. The old man was bleeding, his weapon disarmed laying yards away, but he seemed otherwise whole. Kurt must have beaten him down with the hilt of the two handed blade. He was clearly restraining himself if the man was still breathing.

“Look who we have here, Greenblood. Our old friend Virgil.” Kurt called, humor coloring his tone, as the three approached. 

“Virgil, we meet again. I thought you would have run to ground after our last meeting. Yet I see you are foolish enough to enact an even more ridiculous plan.” De Sardet needled.

“It is for the good of Theleme! The fools cling to these false memories. They sully the glorious name of the Enlightened!” He went to get up, but Ian trained his pistol on him, and he settled. 

“Right now the only one sullying the name of the Enlightened, is you, Virgil. You are under arrest. Don’t try to run again, I will shoot you.” Ian gestured to the village hunter, crowded with the other villagers to watch the spectacle. 

“Restrain him, we must see to it that his idiot followers will not attempt to see his work done.” He turned to the girl, standing with her hands clasped over her mouth, eyes wide. “You stay here, we will be back shortly.”

As they passed her, Kurt placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, girl. You’ll be safe here.”

“I will stay with you.” Aodhán said smiling to the girl, she finally seemed to relax. That charm of his seemed irresistible indeed.

Kurt and Ian left the hunter to his binding of the mad priest and jogged their way back to his camp. 

“Where is Camilla?!” Called an alarmed young man, one of the ones who had watched with concern as she left with the men.

Ian raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “She is fine. Now, I don’t know if you are aware that your leader is wanted for murder and crimes against Theleme… I give you this one chance: give up this foolish quest or I will end it for you. And trust me, I will _ not _be gentle.” 

“And just who are _ you _?” Spat an older priest, his posture was squared, he would fight. 

Ian sighed, “I am Ianto De Sardet, legate and interim Governor of the Congregation of Merchants on Tir Fradee. And I know for a fact that what you are doing flies in the face of the Mother Cardinal’s current goals. Stand down now, and perhaps you will have a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Enlightened.” 

The group chatted between themselves. They seemed willing to give in. 

“No!” Cried that same older priest. “We will not be dissuaded. Do you not remember the words of Virgil!? This is our opportunity to right the course of our history! The Mother Cardenal has given into these foolish modern beliefs. We are not like these dirty savages! We are above this, and we will prove it!” He spat, and then pulled a gun. 

Ian nearly rolled his eyes. _ Could they never just go easy? _He dodged the incoming shot easily, used his magic to advance on the man in an instant. He trapped him in a stasis field, and quickly disarmed him. 

“And the rest of you? Will you relent?” He asked, frustration beginning to break through his mask. He could feel the magic crackling between his fingers, eager to take out the next fool to challenge him. Behind him Kurt laid a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready.

“We will relent!” Acquiesced the young man. “Please, just take me to Camilla?” 

They did. Kurt dragged along the ornery old priest, but the other three went willingly back to Vignamri. There they collected Camilla, who was relieved to see the young man unharmed, and Virgil who had been gagged, apparently he just would not shut up. 

Ian sent Camilla ahead with the other three missionaries to San Matheus. He and Kurt traveled with Virgil and the other angry priest to the nearest coin guard outpost. There they hired a guard to assist Kurt in transporting the prisoners to San Matheus. As much as De Sardet would have loved to see the fools face the Mother Cardinal, he couldn’t be away from New Serene too long.

Ian returned to Vignamri to check in on the villagers. He stopped first to see Slàn, she was grateful for the quick resolution with the Missionaries. She of course fussed over him, kissed his cheeks, told him he looked like he should be eating more and proceeded to make him a bowl of savory porridge and fresh fruit.

Later Ian looked for Aodhán but the man was nowhere to be found. After some investigation he was directed to some woods near the village. He walked along the path that led to the general directions he was given. 

It was peaceful after the hectic afternoon. The sun was beginning to wane, the air was cooling quickly, fresh and invigorating. Suddenly there was a shift in the air, a deafening silence fell, and his hair began to stand on end. He paused in his steps, looking about him. The magic within him seemed to yearn to burst forth, he struggled to reign it in. Cautiously, he ducked into cover and approached the clearing ahead. 

Ian watched the clearing intently. He was expecting a nest of Ulg, or maybe even Dantríg, but none were seen. Something was raising his hackles, but the view ahead was tranquil. Aodhán sat at the center of the clearing surrounded by low carved ceremonial stones. His head was covered in a magnificent head-dress.

He watched curiously for a moment as magic seemed to manifest around the man, the brush seemed to ripple beneath him, it strained to be closer to him, as if he were their sun. He rose slowly, willing his magic to calm, but he could still feel the prickle of it on his skin. He approached slowly. Trying to find words that wouldn’t frighten the man. 

But before the words could come, “Peace, carants.” 

His eyes opened to lock right on Ian’s, and he was stunned. It wasn’t the beauty of the sparkling green eyes that trapped him, and _ Gods were they beautiful. _But there was something about this place. Something this man seemed to amplify that had Ianto at a loss for words.

“Uh- of course. Forgive my reticence, I-” Ian tried, flush creeping up his neck at the steady gaze of this otherworldly man. 

“I am surprised to see you are still here.” The man grinned. Ian took a deep breath and stepped forward. He clutched at the letter still in his breast pocket and tried to remember himself.

“Come, join me.” The man said with a chuckle, standing from his place betwixt the stones.

Ian swallowed hard, trying one last time to compose himself. But his heart was racing, his head felt light, and he could feel his face flushing. He breathed deeply, glancing once more at his surroundings, the dying leaves whispered softly in the trees, it was calm and silent.

“What is this place?” Ian asked as he came close to the seer. 

“This is an ancient, nameless place. It is holy, it is sacred. It is a place where the earth speaks memories of the ancestors. Wisdom lives here.” His smile faded gently, though his face was still pleasant. 

“This is…”

“Shhh.” Hushed Aodhán. He reached out and grabbed Ian’s hand. Ian watched the man pull the glove from his hand glanced up at his face and saw the amusement dance in his eyes. The seer placed Ian’s hand on his bare chest and he couldn’t control the magic that expelled from him then. Aodhán let out a surprised chuckle as the magic danced over his flesh. 

“I- I’m sorry!” Ian choked out and tried to snatch back the offending hand. 

“You are fine, carants.” He sank to the ground keeping his hand in his, pulling Ian with him. The two sat inside the circle now. Aodhán took Ian’s hand and pressed it gently into the plush green earth below. 

Light seemed to dance behind Ian’s eyes now, which blinking did not disburse. Murmured sound rushed in his ears, it was like being underwater. Thousands of voices seemed to call to him then, but he couldn’t make sense of them. Vague visions began to form in front of his eyes- though he could no longer tell if his eyes were open or shut. He could no longer tell if he were breathing or not. Taking in a shuddering breath, he looked up to see the seer’s knowing green orbs. Suddenly his hand was released and the voices ceased. 

His head was spinning, he was gasping for breath. “Wha- what was that? What is this??” Ian stumbled to his feet, tripping on a stone as he moved away. He was overwhelmed. These unknown words shook something deep within him. The blonde man watched him head cocked from where he sat. His eyes were curious but calm. 

“The voices, they speak to you? It is the wisdom of the island.” He rose again from the ground. “They said you were special. I didn’t believe it myself, but now, I see. En ol Mil Frichtimen smiles on you.” 

“I- I don’t understand. There is nothing special about me.”

“From what I hear, you are a sea born noble raised child of Tir Fradee, your blessings are _ numberless _!” Aodhán announced cheerfully, resting his hands on the legates shoulders. Bracing him.

“I can see the pain in you,” He continued, looking deeply into his eyes. “I am sorry for it. But I believe the faces of the land have gifted you a boon for your sacrifice. It would be wise to explore it.”

This idea brought a wry laugh from the legate. “A boon?”

“Yes, as you have done such great things for-”

  
“What I did was _ murder _ my brother. My truest friend! If my reward is for that, I deserve nothing, I want nothing!” Ian was instantly embarrassed for lashing out, but he found he could not stop himself. 

“I have half a mind to leave this bloody island and forget it all for all of the good...” He was shaking now, magic storming across his flesh, his face was hot and wet with tears he didn’t recall shedding. 

“Now what am I to do? Continue on as if this last year hasn’t cost me everything? Everything I knew and loved? I don’t even know who _ I am _ anymore!” He chuckled, wiping his sleeve roughly at his running nose, pulling away from the seer.

“OH but _ En ol Mil Frichtimen _wants to bless me? In return for what? Blast it! I have n-nothing left to give! All I want is peace!” His broken voice struggled to speak the last through his sobs. He buried his face in his hands, turning to hide from the seer. But the violent sobs were uncanny, and he soon gave up in favor for slipping his hands up into his hair and pulling slightly harder than advisable as he tried to regain his composure.

Warm hands closed over his, gently guiding them away from his hair. There was something tranquil in their touch. Something grounding. His bitter sobs continued, but the touch struck him, emanated some calm through him. It was jarring how quickly he was soothed. His hands were gathered in the man’s grasp, and he gazed at them pressed once more against his warm chest. 

Aodhán’s free hand came to rest on Ian’s cheek, his thumb gently wiped at the tears as he turned his face up to meet his gaze. Ian was surprised to see the man smiling softly, eyes gentle and full of care.

“Ianto, you are not broken. Your pain has chipped away at the edges of what you were, yes. Broken open a wall inside you. You are free now. Perhaps you are not who you thought you were, but you are exactly who you were meant to be.” The seer brushed his hand through the legate’s hair, hand resting warm at the back of his neck. Something flickered in his eyes that caused Ian’s breath to hitch.

“You are... beautiful.” He finished, punctuating the sentiment with a gentle kiss to Ian’s lips. The gentleness of that kiss, the warmth of the man, something electric sparked between them then. 

It took a concerted effort for Ian to pull away, keeping a hand on the man's chest to keep him at a literal arm’s length. Aodhán let him go easily. But something was pulling, magic still danced at his fingertips where the connected. Finally he risked a glance to the earthy eyes.

  
“I- I’m sorry…” The words fell from his mouth unbidden. _ Was he really? _He had felt drawn to the enigmatic man from the moment he laid eyes on him. And it was entirely too hard to pull away from his warm embrace. But there was something in those narrowed earthly green eyes that told Ian that he knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Mmm.” He hummed as if something just clicked. “Your man, he was foolish to leave you.” He scoffed, shaking his head as if he were offended by the very thought. 

“It wasn’t all his idea…” Ian admitted, murmuring, glancing down to his feet. It was then he noticed the ground around them was littered with small blooms. Lavender and white joyous little things that certainly weren’t there a moment ago. He eyed the seer incredulously, did he see them too? 

Aodhán smiled at him, kneeling down to pluck one of the blooms. He gazed up at Ian grinning, eyes steady. “It is a shame. If you were free I would have you right here.” 

That’s when the accomplished and cunning Legate’s brain ceased to function. He stared- face flushed, mouth slightly slack at the man kneeling there in the grass, innocently twirling a flower between his fingers. The mischievous blonde even had the nerve to quirk an eyebrow. 

“Like a true En Ol Minawe your desires are clear to the land.” He said plucking up another flower before rising again. He placed it behind Ian’s ear. 

“What?” He asked, trying not to be pulled in by the man’s gravitation. 

“You called out, the land responded.” Answered the seer. Gesturing to the strange blooms surrounding them. 

“But I did no such thing.” Ian struggled brows knitting together- he was dumbfounded by the whole situation. He was only a little frustrated when the man laughed in response. The man placed a hand against his pounding heart before commenting, the simple gesture rendering Ian defenseless.

“You renaigse always try to hide your intentions. But you cannot hide from the land, it already knows.”

“And because the land speaks to you, I suppose I cannot hide from you either?” His only answer was a smile and a shrug. 

“You need not hide from me anyway.” Aodhán whispered drawn close, kissing his jaw this time, right over his birthmark. “There is much we can share. Trust me, I will not persist- your heart is at sea…” He mused, pulling back. With a smile, he returned to the stone circle. Lowering himself gracefully back to his spot there, taking up the head dress again in his hands. 

“Come back and see me when you are ready to understand how En Ol Mil Frictamen has blessed you.” With that the man closed his eyes, the strange pulse beginning to thrum around him again. 

Ian’s walk back to the village seemed to pass in a blink of an eye. His mind was racing. Had he really just been kissed a mysterious island seer he didn’t even know? Had he seriously broken down in front of said man? Had he literally zapped the poor fellow with his suddenly uncontrollable magic? What was _ wrong _ with him? _ How were his eyes so green… _What was he thinking?! What was with the flowers, and why did he feel like touching the man was completing a current? He paused before long, half resolved to go back to that unassuming stone circle and- and... No. 

He found himself at the center of the village staring off into space mind drifting off along with the sounds of the stream nearby. He found a spot near the water and sat. Staring at the water until he made sense again. 

_ You are free now. _ He ruminated on those words for a while. Truly, the obligations tying him to the governors post were moot at this point. His uncle had lied to him, probably meant to use him for some nefarious ends. Now that he knew who he wasn’t maybe it _ was _ time to figure out who he was. 

What if he just didn’t return to New Serene? Here he was sitting in the place of his ancestors, he could feel it in his bones that he belonged there. At his core he felt more settled there than any other place he had been. Aside from the sea, that is, the way he felt at sea was beyond all compare. He smiled to himself, he could almost smell the salt on the air just thinking about it.

Thinking of the_ (sometimes)_ gentle sway of the sea, Ian laid back and gazed at the stars. He imagined Vasco beside him, sailing along, free. In that moment he knew, he knew what he wanted his life to look like. He rose then, and began to make his way back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Thanks for the kudos!
> 
> I hope you’re enjoying this story. Lots of interesting happenings on the horizon. Stay tuned to find out how Vasco is faring at sea and just what De Sardet had to say to him.


	4. Salt & Wounds

Chapter 4- Salt & Wounds

Gulls called overhead, gliding over the shore, pecking at interesting bits here and there as they went. Vasco watched them with a calm fascination. These creatures were in their own little world here on this small island. 

Compared to the sprawl of the other guilds, the Nauts kept things relatively simple. On this particular outpost, cozy huts dotted the beach where fishermen called home. A small village nestled up hill, complete with every remedy, sturdy arches and a stunning open plaza where one could sit anywhere and take in a breathtaking view of the ocean. At the moment three ships were docked on the harbour. Two of them, Volante and the Sea Horse were in for upgrades, some of the crew enjoying some free time on the island. Laughter and conversation blew in on the breeze.

Vasco leaned back against the sand, propping himself up on his elbows. The waves lapped lazily nearby, the subtle roar soothing. His attention was drawn to two young Nauts, probably sea born, playing a few yards up-shore. They giggled and splashed water at one another, chasing until they were out of focus. The sight made the captain smile, he chuckled and shook his head. He was reminded of the time he and Ian were bathing in a creek near Cwenvár after a particularly bloody fight. 

His mind had still been on the clash, the blood of these beasts didn’t wash away easily. Just as he was beginning to become frustrated, he felt a splash of water pelt him from behind. He turned gasping only to see Ian feigning innocence, poorly of course. The man’s greatest fault _was_ his honesty. 

A childish water fight ensued, splashing one another until they were too wet to tell the winner. The bout had long since dissolved into laughter. The two eventually resigned to wash the others' back in relative peace- aside from the occasional playful swat or peck, or pull of hair. 

Those moments were his favorites. The inconsequential moments. Ones that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of their lives, but existed only to provide them with some semblance of peace and normalcy. Ian only truly smiled in those moments, that ridiculous boyish grin that was all teeth and sparkling blue eyes _ (just like the sea) _and usually included that ridiculous giggle. If he was lucky, he’d get a bonus snort, and he would fall in love all over again.

Vasco loved him like that. Loved him regardless, but he wished he could make him smile like that every day. Alas, life was not so simple. So Vasco decided to enjoy the memory of that innocent smile, and the way those smiling lips felt pressed against his own. Though the path was long, he knew he would hold his Tempest again. 

With a dreamy sigh, he pushed himself up from his seat in the sand and walked barefoot, boots and coat in hand, toward the dock. After all, the day was young and he had plenty to do. On his way, he paused to watch the breaking of the Nomad. It was the oldest ship in the fleet, and until now, one of the last ones of its make still sailing. 

The Nauts tore the ship apart, with reverence. Later they would put her pieces to use in upgrades and new builds. There was a legend among some of the sailor that the spirit of the ships torn down lived on in the ones they came to support. It was a lovely thought. And if his time on Tir Fradee taught him anything, Vasco knew not to discount the sentiment. He only hoped that the spirit of the Seahorse would one day live on beyond he and his crew.

“Captain! They need you, something about the crow’s nest...” Came a call from Jonas, he was standing up hill a little ways. He met Jonas at the harbour and quickly replaced his socks and boots. The two made their way to the work area, and the day was full of hard work on the Seahorse. It was time the old girl had some love, Vasco was overjoyed to do it. Being back on the isle again with his brothers and sisters gave Vasco’s spirit a lift. By sunset, he was sailing high. The crew finished up for the day and headed into the town center to get cleaned up and grab some grub. 

When Vasco got back to his quarters, he found a scroll left for him on his desk. At first glance he noticed De Sardet’s seal. He quickly scrubbed up in the basin and was half way through changing his clothes when his curiosity got the best of him. He snatched up the scroll and plopped down on the bed, lighting an extra candle to see better by. Carefully he popped the wax seal and unrolled the pages.

_ “My love, _

_ You have no idea how happy I was to hear from you. I am glad to hear that your voyage was swift. I hope the repairs and upgrades go well. Knowing the brilliance of the Nauts, I’m sure the Seahorse will be better than ever. _

_ I’ll admit, I am jealous of her, I wish I were the focus of those cutting eyes, those clever hands of yours. But, alas, I will bide my time until the spark of your gaze warms me again. _

_ (I have been reading your poetry books, can you tell?) But it is true nonetheless. _

_ I miss you more and more every day. But do not worry about me. Shameful as it may be, you were right, I was pushing you away. It was undue of me. I wish I had a better explanation, but the truth is I am just not good at processing and expressing my emotions. On the continent, feelings were not discussed. They were considered a burden, and so, hidden and bottled up appropriately. _

_ So, I will try to write my feelings to you instead: _

_ First off- I LOVE you. I appreciate how much you have been here for me over the past months. I have never been so undeserving of love, and yet, you gave it to me freely. _

_ Second- I heard you whenever you told me that I was not a monster. Though I still dream of my cousin’s blood on my hands, I may be starting to believe you. _ _ I don’t really know where to go from here. I hope that by the time you return to me, I will be a whole person again, and not some broken shadow of the man you fell in love with. I will be trying everyday. _

_ Third- For the record, I don’t hate you. I know during that particular argument a few weeks back I was pretty adamant about it. But I was definitely drunk at the time, and clearly mistaken. Who could hate such a confident, dashing, and caring Naut captain? I am no fool, delusional, scarred, arrogant- maybe. But not foolish. I am sorry the words ever passed my lips. I find I am sorry for a lot of things, regarding you. _

_ You are the moon and the stars to me, you are the earth and the sea. I cannot wait to see your face again, to hold you and kiss you. To make up for how awful I have been. I will do better, I promise. _

_ Hardy winds, my love. Come back to me. _

_ All my love, _

_ Ianto” _

_ Come back to me. _Come back to me. He felt his heart ache, thinking on those words. Vasco thought back to the morning he left New Serene. Ian had been so distant. He could see the pain in his eyes along with the tears that he held at bay. The night before had been rocky, but they fell asleep safe in one another’s embrace. 

When they said goodbye, Vasco had held him tight, kissed the side of his face as they both choked back tears. He would never forget the way the man’s hands clung to his jacket, the way he gripped to him, all the while forcing a smile to his face. 

It hurt. It physically hurt Vasco to leave the man. His first few hours back with his crew, he was shaky. He had managed to get the ship on the open water and set their course before he escaped to his cabin and vomited and sobbed before he slapped some sense back into himself. This was where he was meant to be.

The days following were far easier. He slipped back into the facade of the old Captain Vasco in no time flat. But truth be told, he wasn’t the same man he had been the last time he was at the helm of the Seahorse. Though he was surrounded by his crew, his _ family _, he missed his friends. 

He missed Aphra rolling her eyes at his purposeful mis-identifications of local flora. He missed Siora laughing at the way Kurt and Ian bickered and the colorful insults they concocted for one another. Even though Petrus had a knack for walking in on he and Ian during more... _ intimate _ moments, he missed the old man and his many machinations. He missed late night drinks, pranks and card games with the Coin Guard Captain. And more than an actual limb, he missed Ianto. 

The swift journey kept him distracted throughout the weeks at sea, but he couldn’t help but realize every moment that he would be happier with his Tempest beside him. And every day since then the same thought crossed his mind at least twice, ok, _ thrice _ a day. 

A knock at the door brought the Captain out of his thoughts. He quickly pulled on a shirt before answering. It was Santiago, the captain of the Volante, hoping to see him to dinner. Vasco ran his hands through his hair and grabbed his hat before following the man out. They walked through the warm yet breezy night toward the tavern. 

“It’s good to see you back with us, Vasco. How does it feel?” Asked the older captain. His salt and pepper hair blew in the breeze, his wise golden eyes sparkled in the lantern light.

Vasco chuckled, “Ah it’s just like coming home, Captain.”

“Well it’s always good to have you. Though, to be honest, I am surprised ya returned.”

“Well, so am I.” Vasco chuckled. The pair entered the tavern and quickly found a seat on the patio around the side. They shared a pitcher of ale as they waited for their meals.

“Commanding a fleet will be a lot different than commanding a single ship. But, I know you are more than capable.” Santiago commented sipping on his beer.

“Aye, it will be an adjustment. I’ve been reading the files Cabral provided on the ships and crews in my fleet. Good sailors, the lot of ‘em.”

“Have you met the captains?” 

“I’ll meet them when we dock in Serene. Though, I have worked alongside a few of them before.”

“I wonder how they will take to answering to the youngest fleet commander in Naut history.” Santiago laughed.

“Aye... think I’ll face much resistance?”

“Eh, they’re good captains. Lorenzo can be a salty old sod, he thinks everyone must learn _the hard way_, as he did. But you earned your marks same as them, they will respect that. Anyway, it’s demanding work, commanding a fleet. A sight different from whatever adventure you were having on Tir Fradee.”

“Indeed, but that adventure is over it seems.” He stared into his ale then, thinking of Ian’s letter. 

“Heard you had some _epic_ love story on the island. That adventure over as well?” The older Captain eyed him knowingly over the rim of his mug. Suddenly Vasco’s heart felt very heavy.

“Never.” He could barely speak over the knot in his throat. He took a swig of his drink. Santiago sighed deeply and shifted in his seat. 

“Vasco, I’m going to tell you something you’ve probably already been thinkin’, but by lea seas lad… You can’t have both. It’ll tear you apart!” His eyes were earnest, he wasn’t trying to start a fight, but something defiant flared up in Vasco regardless. He took a deep breath and averted his eyes. When the young commander didn’t respond Santiago continued, “Do you really think you can? Ah Vasco, I never thought you naive, but you _ are _ young, alas. That love of yours won’t be happy to wait for you for long. What exactly do you think will happen?”

Vasco sighed, heart heavy. “I don’t know, Santiago. But I can’t just let him go… There has to be a way.”

“Well... Maybe there is a way, if you don’t make the same mistakes I did. I can see it in your eyes, lad. You don’t _ really _ want to be here.” 

Before Vasco could respond, the girl brought their plates and another pitcher of beer. Telling them excitedly that the bard was about to start up. And he did. Jovial music spilled out onto the patio, bringing cheer to the patrons, and distracting the older Naut from their discussion. Vasco picked at his meal slowly, despite the hard work of the day, he found his appetite soured. He gazed out over the hill, at the moon reflecting off the waves in the distance. After a while he excused himself and wandered over to the railing and patted his pockets for his pipe. He leaned there, eyes watching the smoke listing from his lips, listening to the chatter and music spilling from the tavern, taking in the sea air. 

He thought over Santiago’s words, over his responsibilities, thought of his fire haired Tempest. He was at a loss. Vasco figured setting sail again meant his decision was made. But he never felt more unsure of anything in his life. He felt even more unsure about himself now, than he had before he knew his origins. With a curse he tipped his spent ash over the rail and returned to the table to bid the Captain goodnight. He left a few coins for the dinner and was off. He took the long way home hoping the air would clear his mind. By the time he returned to his place, his mind was still just as crowded. He sighed and made ready for bed. Existential crisis or no, he had work to do tomorrow. As he laid down, he hoped for a dreamless sleep. 

The sun came up, and work was flying by swiftly. Seeing the seahorse shine brought up the spirits of the whole crew. The sun was shining. The breeze was pleasant. Vasco only thought about Ian a few times. Overall, it was shaping up to be a good day. 

Vasco was working on deck overseeing the replacement of some floorboards that had been damaged in a hail storm. At the same time he looked over some of the new material options for the sails. Much sturdier fabric, just as light. Vasco ignored the swatches for a moment, kneeling to see some shoddy work on one of the boards. He stood and was just about to rip into the lazy sod laying the boards when he heard shouting. He looked toward them, but before he could register their pointing and shouting “Hit the deck!” a sharp pain shot through his head and everything faded to black. 

_ Waves crashed as the sky lit up above. Violent wind pulled the sails tight. Vasco called out orders, but turned to see there was no one there to heed them. The wind blew ever harder, seeming to pull the ship along at its own will. Clouds parted to colors dancing in the night sky. Blues and greens swirled amongst the stars. Straight ahead he could see a massive iceberg, it shone like glass, floating eerily calm in the violent sea, as if it weren’t affected at all. The Seahirse was barreling straight toward it. Vasco turned the wheel with all his might, but the Seahorse moved of its own accord. _

_ He hurried to the anchor, worked the crank in a panic if he couldn’t turn the ship, he’d try to stop it. The anchor dove angrily into the sea, plunging beneath the surface as fast as could be. He backed away from the spool, spinning violently as the anchor plunged deeper and deeper. It should have stopped by now, but the chain seemed impossibly long. Shaking his head he reached for the crank, but couldn’t catch it. _

_ “No no no!!” He looked back, still heading toward the berg terrifyingly fast. He looked about the empty deck, a chill ran through him. He’d have to abandon ship. It was either that or go down with her. Cold as it was, he’d probably freeze to death anyway. _

_ Suddenly, the anchor snapped to a stop, jolting the ship and throwing him to the ground. He laid there panting, wind freezing his ears and nose. Beyond the howling wind, he began to hear something, was it singing? He scrambled to his feet, grabbing for his tricorn as it began to blow across the deck. He made his way toward the hull. Leant over the rail he squinted to see if he could make out what was calling to him so. The berg was mere yards away, he could see the surface of it from where he stood. He could feel the cold radiating from it. _

_ The song seemed closer now, hummed in a low voice, the tune was thoughtful, slow. It sounded so familiar. Finally his eye rested on the source of that sound a figure sat there on the surface of the ice. _

_ “Oi!! You there! You’ll freeze! Can you hear me?” He called, the blasted fool would die! At least on board they would be warm. Before he realized what he was doing, he had hoisted a plank across the deck to the iceberg. He crossed it in a hurry, before the wind could push him over. The berg was eerily still, didn’t seem to be swaying in the choppy waters like the ship. The song became clearer as he approached the figure until he finally recognized the tune. It was was some perversion of the one Ian would hum when he thought no one was listening. The one his mother used to sing to him in his youth. _

_ “Ian?!” He dashed the rest of the way to the figure, sliding on his knees grasping at the mans shoulders and turning him to face him. The man was nude for some reason, but his skin felt warm. _

_ “What are you doing here Tempest?” He said running his hands through the mans hair, trying to discern the look in his eyes. _

_ “You came back to me…” He smiled, cupping Vasco’s face. _

_ “Of course I did, love.” He said pressing a kiss into his lips. His hand slid down to brace on the man's thigh, but he touched scales instead. With a gasp, he fell back onto the ice. Ian reached out to him. _

_ “Vasco?” Vasco scrambled back taking in the sight of the man sat before him. He looked more or less the same, aside from the iridescent blue-ish green scaled tail where his legs should be. Suddenly Ian grasper his arm, his eyes flashing in an unearthly light. The storm kicked up again. Vasco tried to pull away as the rain beat down, thunder rumbling in the clouds. _

_ “Don’t go Vasco, don’t leave me! He comes, Vasco!” He cried out over the storm. Suddenly lightning struck in the space between them, and everything exploded into a bright light. _

When he blinked his eyes open again he was laying in the infirmary. It was cool and dark, probably early morning, and his head was absolutely pounding in his skull. He made to sit up, but the pounding only intensified, forcing him back down. He groaned out in pain. He reached up and tenderly touched the back of his head, he was dismayed to feel that the bottom few inches of his hair was shaved off. He could feel stitches there, mostly healed it seemed. He wondered then how long he was out. 

Slowly this time, he rose from the bed and set his bare feet on the cool wooden floor. He looked around the quiet room as he breathed through the dizziness he was feeling. The other beds in the room were mostly empty aside from one, where a man was sleeping soundly. Vasco slowly rose to his feet and when he was stable, walked toward the door. The room beyond seemed to be the doctor's office. Said doctor was sitting at the desk, lantern low, head resting on a stack of paperwork as he snored. Vasco cleared his throat a few times before the doctor awoke, jumping when he saw Vasco standing there. 

“By the seas!” The doctor exclaimed reaching for his glasses and giving Vasco a once over. “How are you feeling, Vasco?” 

“Dizzy, my head aches…” He began, the doctor had risen from the desk and was now steering Vasco back toward the bed. 

“Well you have been out for days. Seems the swelling is gone…” the doctor said as he checked under Vasco’s bandages before removing them altogether. “The healer helped a great deal. I’m afraid if it weren’t for his intervention, you would be quite dead.”

“_Dead?!_ What the hell happened, Doc?” Vasco demanded. Growing irritated at the doctor’s poking and prodding. 

“There was an accident with the repairs. Apparently one of the young lads operating the crane made a mistake, knocked you right in the back of the head. You lost a lot of blood, had a lot of swelling. The healer was able to reduce the inflammation before there was any serious damage...” Vasco’s mind glazed over halfway through the explanation. 

“Vasco? Vasco are you alright?” The doctor asked waving a hand gently in front of his face. 

“Y- yes. Fine. How long?” He blinked, trying to focus.

“The accident was six days ago. Really it’s good that you’re walkin’ and talkin’, it could have been a lot worse. But you need your rest, lad. You can return to your cabin if you like, but I’ll ask that you rest. Stay off your feet until your feeling better. I'll send someone along later with some medicines for you.”

“Alright, Doc.” Vasco sighed, sitting back in the bed. The doctor left the room to fetch some food and medicine. Vasco’s mind drifted back to that strange dream. He always thought Ian charming enough to be a siren, but that dream was too much. He shook the images from his head as the doctor returned with a tray of food and water and some medicinal powders. But the song still hummed in his head.

After Vasco was fed and medicated, he got dressed and carefully made his way back to his cabin. He sat for a while staring out his window. The sun was rising, the birds were beginning to call, the air was changing with the tide. He felt tired and overwhelmed, and all too alone. 

He moved to the bath, pumping water in, careful not to over exert himself. He added a few hot pots of water to it once it was servcibly full, to warm it. Finally slipping in, the heat seeped into his bones stealing away the tension. All he had the energy to do was to double over and cry. Only he couldn’t cry for long as a headache began to throb through him. He groaned through gritted teeth.

He made quick work of the bath, dressed, and sat down on his bed. He combed through his damp hair carefully, it felt strange having the part shaved out of the back, but upon inspection in the mirror, he decided it didn’t look too bad. He toweled off a bit more and pulled it into a loose bun at the top of his head.

He pulled on an extra jumper and snuggled down into bed with a book. A few hours passed, a chapter here, a doze there, then came a gentle knock at his door. He made his way to the door slowly, still quite dizzy. 

“Admiral! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Vasco stepped aside to let her in. 

“Vasco, I heard about the accident. Seems you aren’t cleared for duty.” She began, taking the chair Vasco pulled out for her. The admiral eyed him carefully as he grasped white knuckled and quite pale to the arms of his own chair as he eased himself down. She continued, “But the trek to Gaconne is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I must ask, do you feel ready?”

Vasco’s lips were pressed into a thin line against the dizziness in his head, it was all he could do to not vomit on the spot. He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly before answering, “Admiral, I can promise you I‘ll do my best. I wish I had a better answer for you.”

“Accidents happen, Vasco, you need time to heal. Unfortunate as it is, that ship must leave for Serene on time. If need be, there is another option to take your place as Fleer Commander... If you think you will be well enough by the time the Seahorse docks in Serene, have your second step in, I will trust you on it. But if not, we need to have a different conversation.” Cabral clarified.

Really it was only fair, the guild had obligations to meet. Vasco had yet another decision to make. “I understand, Admiral.” Vasco’s gaze drifted from her kind and concerned eyes to the window behind her. 

“I will let you think on it.” She said before leaning forward. “I know this is a lot to decide right now. I’m very sorry for your injury Vasco, we are all so glad that you pulled through. I’ve seen similar accidents before, many men aren’t so lucky.”

“Thank you Admiral. I still can’t quite comprehend that I have missed the better part of a week, but I’m glad to be breathi-“ Vasco was cut off by a terrible pain that had him gritting his teeth and growling out as his hands cradling his head. 

“Vasco! Vasco? I’ll get the doctor!” To her credit, she made haste, but Vasco was out before she left the room. 

He hit the ground hard, the next moments passed in a blur. Vaguely, he heard Cabral enter with the doctor, and felt the throb in his skull as he was lifted to bed. He heard the healer being called for, and felt the subtle sensation of a cool cloth being pressed to his head. He wrenched himself up just enough to vomit over the side of the bed before collapsing back in a heap against the pillows, hazily aware that Cabral took the brunt of it, he’d be embarrassed about that when he was sure he wasn’t dying. His head was pounding and he felt like he was spinning, thoughts coming in incoherent streams of consciousness. At one point all he could do was narrate what was happening- _ The Doctor is panicking, his brow is sweating. Cabral has tears in her eyes. Have I ever seen her cry? I can’t feel my face. _

The healer arrived, finally. The magic he washed over Vasco was napanthe. Slowly the throbbing receded and his thoughts became more clear. His breath and heart beat evened out. He focused on the healers hands, and slowed his breath all the more. Eventually the pain receded altogether and he drifted in between wakefulness and sleep for some time. 

Slowly he became aware again. Cabral was sat beside him, flipping through some logs. It took her a moment to notice he was awake.

“Healer said I should not have stressed you so. You feeling alright?” She questioned, keeping her voice low just in case.

“I, yes, I believe so.” He reached for the water on the bedside table, sitting up slowly to sip. “I just… I want to go home.” He said, barely above a whisper. His eyes locked into the intricate weave if the blanket laid over him, afraid to see disappointment in the Admiral’s eyes.

“Come again, Vasco?” Her attention was fully on him now. He lifted his eyes to hers forgoing his analysis of the blanket weave. 

“I want to go home, Admiral.” Clearly this time. But he didn’t find disappointment in those clever eyes, not even surprise. “You said there was another option… take it. I must resign.” He finished, slumping forward to rest his elbows to his thighs. He sighed, awaiting her words, anxiously tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“Vasco, there is no dishonor in your decision. I want you to know that. I will make the arrangements. But for now, I will let you rest. There is water in the pitcher there, and broth in the thermos if you get hungry.” With that she rose, an almost maternal smile on her face.

“Thank you Cabral.” He croaked, blinking back tears.

“Think nothing of it. Tomorrow, if you are feeling better you should see the finishes to the Seahorse. I know the crew would like to see that you’re ok. And then, you will return to Tir Fradee with me.” Her hand on his shoulder, “Home, Vasco.”

He could only nod then, emotion suddenly overtaking him, fat hot tears dropped down his angular nose, dripped and ran along the tattoos on his forearms. He fought back his sobs. The thought of the Seahorse under someone else’s command never did sit well, but he was somehow relieved. So he sobbed some more. Cabral patted his back a few times before rising.

“It’s alright Vasco. We are your family, we will all support you in this. Your crew will be in good hands, I will see to it. Don’t worry your head, rest now. I’ll be back for you tomorrow.”

She excused herself to see to business, leaving Vasco to sort through his feelings._ This is the right choice. _ He reminded himself in his condition it was the _ only _ choice. But more keenly, he knew the only choice was the one that brought him back to his Tempest. He laid back, praying to the seas that his headache would not return, focused on the fact that he would be home soon.

The next afternoon, he was back on the Seahorse. The upgrades were flawless, they even managed to prevent his blood from staining the deck. Truly the thought was disturbing, he was glad there would be no momento to remember the accident by. Saying goodbye to his crew was harder this time. He was on no temporary grounding, this time he was choosing for good. With that in mind, he stood at the helm for a final time, taking it all in until he accepted that this leg of his journey was indeed over. 

He set sail on the Admiral's ship that very day. It was strange being a passenger, but found he couldn’t complain. He took to writing during the long days at sea, when he wasn’t speaking with the crew on deck at all hours, this time admiring the view instead of analyzing the horizon for threats and direction. It was a wholly different experience, and he decided, not at all unpleasant. After so long holding onto these goals and responsibilities of the man he thought he should be, here he was, free of it all. He took a deep breath, gazed out at sea, and thought of his Tempest.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking in! Lots of deadlines at work, so not much time to write. Decisions, decisions for poor Vasco I think he needs a hug.


	5. The Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life or Aulora. See what the weather blows in. Fair warning: it's about to get REAL steamy.

Chapter 5: The Spoon

Most of her morning was spent languidly soaking in the copper tub. She sipped on coffee, hot, then cold. She flipped slowly through orders and new contracts, mentally noting needed supplies and assignments. Her hair cascaded in thick dark waves over her shoulders, pooling and dancing on the surface of the warm water. A storm raged outside but she paid it no mind. As it did quite often these days, her mind drifted to the handsome blue eyed captain. As is expected, these ruminations lit a familiar nervous fire in her belly. Alas, it was a busy day with no time for such thoughts, so she sunk her head below the warm water to ground herself. 

With an exaggerated sigh, she pulled herself from the tub, wrapped herself in a clean towel and made her way back to her room. Deiter was snoring loudly down the hall, the rooms were quite otherwise. The only sounds of the rumbling storm and her footsteps padding damply down the hall before she disappeared into her room. She dropped her paperwork onto the crowded desk overflowing with notes and files of all sorts. It was haphazard, really, but she knew where every last article was to be found if needed. 

Sat at her dressing table she toweled off her hair which was curling happily in its dampness. She gazed at herself in the mirror for a while. Silently she asked her reflection what the day would hold. Absently she applied her lotions and perfume, a bit of oil to her hair before brushing it through and braiding away the wild strands (to their great disappointment). She rose and drifted to the armoire, selecting something warm from her scant options and dressing quickly, the chill of the day settling in her bones. One last check in the mirror she wrapped her braid into a bun atop her head, and tried out no less than three smiles before she believed was convinced to set off for this new day. All the while pushing down that nagging anxiety which seemed determined on being her best friend.

First, she scurried to the tavern to check in. Segrit asked for six more bottles, “At your leisure of course, _ my lady. _” He teased. Laughing she made her way downstairs, tidying up here and there. Swapping out last night's bedding with some freshly washed, fluffing the flattened pillows. She burned a few scented candles she traded with some traveling native merchant last week. The scent was floral but not too sweet, a note of citrus or some fragrant wood wound in. It was one she quite enjoyed. As she was sitting down at the table to finish her work on the books, Suri entered, loudly. She was humming some cheerful tune, shamelessly off tune. Aulora couldn’t help but smile.

“Aah Lora aren’t you a lovely sight this fine morning!” She all but sang, looping her soft blue scarf around Aulora’s neck.

“Oh, yes, quite lovely isn’t it? So dark and stormy...” She griped, gazing back to her papers and extracting the scarf from her neck. 

“Oh now, don’t be so grumpy, you have been so pleasant as of late!” Suri countered sitting on the table.  
  


“I am not _ grumpy _ ! I’m _ busy! _” Aulora countered, gesturing to her paperwork.

“Mhmm.” She teased with a smirk.

“What brings you so early, Suri?” She sighed, closing her file, accepting she would get no work done with her here.

“The storm is so loud, I couldn't sleep! I knew you would be here, alas, and I just had to ask…” She paused, leaning her elbow onto the table, leveling her hazel gaze on Aulora.

Aulora sat back in her chair, crossing one knee over the other. “Ask what?” 

“Just _ why _ have you been so cheerful lately?” Suri asked, wagging a dainty blonde eyebrow at her. 

“Oh, by the _ Gods _, Suri. You make it sound like I am some terrible, sour old maid.” She scoffed.

“Have you finally taken a man?? I bet it’s that handsome guard Captain I saw you having drinks with last week! Oh the way he was looking at you…” She poked, batting her eyelashes.

“Was he?” Aulora asked biting her lip nervously.

“Oh yes! Can you blame him? You have so many callers these days.” She joked sitting back.

“Ugh please those men are only trying to_ ‘Bed the whoremonger’s daughter’.” _She complained, rolling her eyes.

Suri sat a moment, her expression unreadable. “Well count yourself lucky, you’ve options to explore. Maybe he will see you as more than a soft bosom and a wet-“

“Yes! Really, Suri! Message received.” The blush on her cheeks creeping hotly up her ears. 

“Goodness how you have remained such a prude after growing up in brothels, I will never know.” She giggled. “Do you even know what to do with a man like that, Lora?”

“Well, if I’m lucky, I’ll figure it out!” She quipped rising from her seat. She grabbed her cloak and patted Suri in the head jokingly. “Don’t get into trouble, we have our rounds tonight, remember!” She was halfway up the stairs before she could hear Suri groan behind her.

“Can’t you take Elizabeth on the rounds? I hate those bloody Nauts.” She paused at the top of the stairs. Turning to gauge Siri’s expression.

“Oh yes, darling, but they surely do adore you!” She ran the rest of the way before Suri could throw something at her. 

Next on the agenda was the markets. There wasn’t much needed, a few dry foods and a dowel to repair the cart. The errand was quick, no one was out in this weather. Goods in hand, she made her way outside the city gates to the small barn she had rented for her distilling. The rain had begun to slow, which was a blessed thing. The pots she had set out for the roof leaks were just beginning to overflow. After a cursory check on the aging barrels and the mash concoctions currently fermenting in their vats, she made quick work of tidying up and repairing the cart. She set a third wash to boil before taking a break. Steam and the scent of fermenting malt filled the small space and she took a deep breath of it. Enjoying a moment of peace before heading out again. She had just enough time to finish the rest of her work before rounds and returning to the distilling wash. 

Rain began to fall again as she rushed back to the tavern. It was falling in heavy sheets and the wind was picking up, making it damn near impossible to see ahead. She moved as quickly as she could with the cart in tow, even with the thing fixed it was slowing her down greatly. Just when she was making progress, a wheel got stuck on a hole in the pavement. 

Push as she might, it didn’t budge. Spitting curses at the damned thing she knelt to try and see more clearly how to free the wheel. The rain pelting her all the while. In seconds she was soaked irritated, and covered in mud. She let out an undignified “Fuck!” and rose, kicking the accursed pile of wood. 

“Alright there?” Came a call from her left, she turned to the voice just barely making out Kurts imposing figure and sparkling blue eyes hiding under a cloak. He approached and quickly freed the wheel, making her feel quite silly really, and asked, “Where are you headed?” 

She took a beat to compose herself before answering. “To the tavern! Thank you, really! But I can take it from here.” She moved to take the handles from him only to be met by his raised eyebrow and incredulous smirk. 

“Nonsense!” He adjusted the pack slung over his shoulder and made for the tavern. She followed along his swiftly made path, tamping down the flutter in her belly. They made it to the tavern quickly. She motioned to him to leave the cart under the awning along the side of the building and they moved inside and shed their soaked cloaks. The tavern was empty aside from the usual drunk who was _ always _ in the tavern and Segrit, leaning against the bar reading a book. 

He glanced up at them when they entered, “Got my bottles, girl?” 

She sighed stomping her boots on the carpet at the door, Kurt doing the same. “Yes, I’ve your bottles, they’re in the cart. I’ll bring them in when it lets up a bit.” Segrit just shrugged and went back to his reading. “Wanna pour us a few?” 

“Sure, why not. Not too early for you Captain?” He asked pushing back from the bar.

“Never! I need it after this last trek.” He began, hanging his and Aulora’s soaked cloak by the door and reaching into his pack for his pipe. His gaze shifted to Aulora who was hopping about on one foot. Under his gaze she froze, bent over adjusting her sock which was now damp and bunched uncomfortably in her boot. Before she could feel too embarrassed his face broke into a wide smirk and he chuckled offering a hand to help her balance as she adjusted the other boot. 

Soon she straightened and smiled, thanking him for his assistance. They sat at the bar, enjoying in the warmth of the fire roaring nearby. “So where are you coming from?” She asked sipping her ale.

“San Matheus, my favorite place on Tir Fradee.” Sarcasm, of course. The look in his eye told her the trip wasn’t all bad. 

“Did Ian not go with you?” She asked, amused as he downed his ale rather quickly. 

“Nah, he had business here. Should probably check in on him soon.” He motioned for another ale before continuing. “Saw a ship on approach on my way in. I will never understand how those Nauts navigate in this weather.” He mused lighting his pipe as he waited for his beer.

“Hmm. No sense trying to understand magic.” Sipping her ale, she traced his profile with her eyes. Quite handsome indeed. And how did he smell this good after coming off travel? Her pondering halted when his eyes slid to hers expectantly. Had he asked her something? “What?” 

“You seen him lately?” She blinked, and he chuckled at her, shaking his head. He turned in his seat toward her before continuing. “Ian, I mean.” 

“Oh! Oh, no, I’ve been holed up in the barn the last few days working on a few new batches. Why?” She hesitated to ask, there was something endearingly anxious in the way he asked after Ian. 

“It’s nothing…” Unlikely, she thought as she watched his gaze shift back to his fresh pint. She tracked the way his finger dragged through the condensation on the glass, stopping herself when she imagined those same fingers drifting across her skin. 

Clearing her throat she continued. “You’re worried. I’m sure he’s alright alone for a while. Quite capable, our_ interim governor _. The people think very fondly of him!” This brought a smile to Kurts scarred face, a real genuine smile. Pride practically radiated off of him. 

“That is good to hear, he certainly had put his heart into his new post. But yes, I worry, he’s been through a lot as of late…”

“And you want to be there for him.” Their eyes locked for a moment.

“Yes, he is important to me.” She smiled at that.

“Oh, and how lucky he is to have you. You’re a surprisingly tender man, Kurt.” Adorably, this brought a flush to the man’s cheeks. He rubbed at his neck.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. I’ve a reputation, you know.” They laughed. “What have you got going today? How about lunch?” 

“Oh! Well I’m supposed to be keeping an eye downstairs, but it seems rather quiet, I think father can handle it.” She stopped herself rambling with a deep breath. “Lunch sounds lovely.”

Kurt regarded her with a warm smile, eyes searching over her as if he were observing something precious. Such reverence had her heart hammering in her chest. She found she couldn’t hold such a gaze, so her eyes drifted to her glass. 

“Good.” Voice low, he lifted a hand gingerly tucking a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered at the shell of her ear before caressing down the length of her neck and disappearing from her all too soon. The shiver that ran through her at his touch seemed to please him greatly. 

“You should come to mine, Dieter will be here all day, it’ll be quiet there.” She suggested, suddenly hyper-aware of his warmth beside her. 

“You trying to get me to go home with you?” She sputtered her beer at that, Kurt laughed heartily. That booming rich sound warmed her to the bone. “Just teasing, girl. I’ll be there.” He eased, still smiling at her blushing face. The pair finished their beers and Kurt departed to check in with De Sardet. 

Aulora spent the rest of her morning taking care of errands for Dieter and the girls. The rain finally gave up, the sun peeking its way out of the clouds at last. She returned to the barn to tend to her still. As she finished up a knock came at the door. 

“Hello, Victor!” Victor was the farmer who owned said barn. He didn’t tend to come around much, he and his family were busy with their animals and crops. 

“Hello, Aulora.” He stepped inside, removing his hat and holding it to his chest.

“I’ve a new bottle for you! From the latest batch. I think Molly will enjoy it! It’s a bit sweeter than the last one.” She went to retrieve the bottle but he stopped her, holding up a hand.

“Aulora, listen, I have some bad news…” he paused, looking guiltily into her eyes. She felt her stomach drop instantly. “I hate to do this, but the farm is expanding, I’m afraid we need you to vacate. It’s been absolutely wonderful having you but we simply don’t have the room.” He finished, dropping his arms, looking utterly defeated.

“Oh, Victor…” she paused, panic began to set in. The reason she was working out of the barn in the first place was because the cost of space inside the town walls was so expensive. 

“Listen, I know this is a lot to deal with. Don’t worry about paying for the month. I have a friend in town who can help you find a space. I’m terribly sorry, Aulora.” For a moment, she could only stare at the man. She took a look around the room, mentally cataloging the amount of product she would have to move. 

“Victor,” She began her voice quivering. “First I want to congratulate you on the expansion. That is great news! You have been very kind to me, and I appreciate that. So um…” the words caught in her throat, anxiety clawing in full force. “When do you need me out?” Her arms crossed over her chest as if trying to keep her frayed nerves in. 

“About a week, we might be able to wait a few extra days if need be.” She didn’t really hear much of what he said or remember what she said after that. All she really heard was her mind racing, _ ‘oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.’ _

Somehow, she found herself back in town, on her way to meet with Kurt at the governor's palace. Pushing her concerns from her mind she bound up the palace steps. She had never really been inside the palace, it felt oddly like a temple, all silence and polished surfaces. Upon entering the audience room, she saw Kurt speaking with Ian by the window. There seemed to be no visitors present, just a few guards. Pasting on her easiest smile she approached, Ian’s own smile lighting up as soon as he saw her. 

“Aulora! It’s so good to see you.” He took her hand placing a kiss upon her knuckles. 

“Good to see you as well! Enjoying this weather?” She asked smiling and eyeing Kurt sideways as he grinned at her. 

“It has been a blessing, no one wants to go out so it’s been quiet here all day. I hear you and Kurt are having lunch without me? _ Such a shame _.” The legate sighed sarcastically, complete with a fake pout. 

“Oh, I’m sure we would bore you.” Aulora dismissed with a wave of her hand. He chuckled in response.

“How goes the distilling?” Ian asked with a smile, eyes narrowing ever so slightly when he saw her face fall.

“Well, seems I need to find a new place to work. The barn will soon be unavailable. But on the whole, things are going quite well! Got a few barrels aging now, should have the rest barreled within the week. As good a time as any to move shop...” Lies, moving would be a daunting task. And if the mental math she was doing was accurate, which it _ was _, the cost of it all could break her. But these were new friends, she couldn’t allow her neuroticisms to show just yet. 

“Why’s the old farmer giving you the boot?” Kurt asked, the frown on his face downright protective. 

“He needs the space. When I rented the place months ago, they weren’t up to capacity, they hadn’t need of it. Things change…” She sounded almost deflated, Kurt’s eyes softened on her. Ian placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Well there are a few properties recently completed in the copper district. I can help you to get a fair deal. We could be neighbors!” He winked.

“Really, there’s no need to trouble yourself…” She laughed, the warmth of his hand on her shoulder did inspire confidence. He smiled warmly at her, mouth opening to speak when the doors were flung open. The three turned toward it. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” Commented Kurt, arms crossing over his chest. Ian’s hand dropped from her shoulder she glanced at him to see his eyes wide, lips still parted. She turned back to the tall confident figure striding toward them, a smiling young Naut, his handsome face covered in tattoos. She recognized him immediately. 

“Vasco!” Ian called rushing to the man, who took him into his arms when they met, both men laughing between kisses as they clung to one another. “What brings you so soon?” Ian asked, leaning into the hand Vasco ran through his hair.

“I’m home, Tempest. And I am here to stay.” Aulora watched with a smile, heart warm. Kurt placed a hand on her back, nodding toward the door when she looked up at him. As they took their leave, the couple made their way to the balcony.

“I knew the starry eyed sailor couldn’t stay away.” Kurt chuckled as they made their way down the grand stairs.

“How long was he meant to be away?” She asked as they heading toward the silver district, carefully avoiding the larger puddles left by the morning rain. 

“Supposed to be eight months or more. Only made it what? A month and a half? Two? Anyway, can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“Oh it’s just too precious! They make quite the handsome couple.” She giggled, slowing to gaze at a vacant property near the tavern. It had a charming wide shop window, good light. She sighed dreamily before moving on. 

“So, how long do you have to find a place?” Kurt asked. 

“About a week.” She answered, voice wavering as anxiety began to creep up on her again. 

“That’s not long at all… Is Dieter helping you?” He asked eyes fixed on her profile. 

“Dieter doesn’t know!” She clipped, stopping at the door of their home careful to avoid his penetrating gaze. She unlocked it quickly and slipped inside, holding the door open for Kurt before locking it behind him. 

“What, why?” He asked, hands on his hips. She shifted under his questioning gaze. Finally she met his eyes.

“My Father is very protective of me. This little side business is as much freedom as he’s ever let me have, and he gives that freedom begrudgingly. If I give him any sign that I have hit a hitch, he may make me quit altogether.” 

“Just because you’ve hit a snag doesn’t mean you’ll fail…” Kurt pointed out, his voice strangely accusatory for such an encouraging statement. She could only smile at that.

“Well, he’s always been that way. Would rather coddle me than let me learn.” She rolled her eyes. “Alas, make yourself comfortable!” She said motioning to the seats by the fireplace. She made herself busy starting a fresh fire. Once the fire was lit, she poured him a drink and disappeared into the kitchen. She made quick work of uncorking a bottle of wine and making a platter of fruit, meat, cheese and bread. Fussing only a little too much to make sure it looked appealing.

When she entered the room again, he was reclined comfortably in the chair, sipping his whisky staring into the fire like he owned the place, his eyes alighting on her as soon as she entered. Aulora certainly didn’t mind. They ate in relative silence each enjoying the other's company and the warmth of the fire. Eventually they found themselves sat on the carpet in front of the fire, sharing the last of the wine and fruit and talking quietly.

“How is it that you came into distilling?” Kurt asked, his gaze drawn more to her now than the flame of the hearth.

“Oh, it is a bit of a sad story, truly.” She said, eyes solemn. “There was an old man, Benjamin, he came across from Serene about fifteen years ago with the first Congregation settlers. He and his wife, Genevive. They had been married since they were quite young, never had any children though. They had decided not to try again after a few were stillborn. Things weren’t easy back then, settling in. There was none of the city you see now, just the beginnings. Living was hard. Genevive came ill, and well, she didn’t survive.” She paused to take another bite of fig, causing juice to drip down her chin. Kurt swiped away the offending nectar, unconsciously licking the juice from his thumb. Her heart stuttered for a moment before she continued.

“By the time my father and I arrived five years ago, Benjamin had become quite a recluse. He hired company, but apparently he _ only _ wanted company, and father complained the girls were more suited to actual business. So he sent me instead. He was a sweet old man, lonely, but kind. He told me all about his lovely Genevive, and their old life in Serene. The poor man was so alone without her. But I have never seen someone so devoted, he loved her so much, even in all that pain.” She mused, eyes gazing through the fire, thinking of her old friend.

“Benjamin spent his time working as the town’s archivist, what time he could spare, he spent on distilling._ It was how his father had made a living after all. _He taught me everything I know. It was so fascinating to me. How time and chemistry could create something to savor. When he died, almost two years ago now, he left me his equipment, and quite a sum to continue on the work in his absence.” She sipped her wine then, brown eyes lost in Kurt’s cold blue.

“And so you carried on?” He asked, eyes tracking her face as it shifted through various emotions.

“Well, I had to. Benjamin was the only one who ever told me I was worth believing in. I just don’t have the heart to prove him wrong.” She chuckled, to make light of the sentiment. Unwilling to admit how true it was. Kurt’s hand grazed her cheek again then, and again she lost her train of thought.

“You are...” He said, fingers becoming lost in her soft curls.

“What am I?” She asked, the heat of his gaze becoming unbearable.

“You are worth it…” His lips sealed on her own, drowning any doubts of his desire for her. His lips which at that moment tasted of figs and wine made her believe she was indeed worthy. And if any doubt remained, his strong hands which found purchase, gently, on her waist, and stroked her cheek tenderly told the truth. As her tongue trailed across his scarred lip, she found herself willingly lost. His presence overtaking her, there was only his warmth, his breath, his touch. They separated slowly, but hands lingered, the scruff of his beard tickling as he nuzzled her hair. She couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up as he pulled back with a smile, admiring her in the light of the fire. 

“You are a beautiful and fascinating young lady. I am very happy to be getting to know you.” As he confessed, the sun outside shifted through the clouds, casting his storied face in stark relief. 

“And I you, Kurt.” She replied, bringing a hand up to gently trace along the left side of his face, carefully tracing along his scarred brow. She leaned forward to pluck another swift kiss from his lips. 

With a breathy chuckle Kurt responds, “I cannot begin to imagine what you see in a crass old fool like me, but I have learned not to question such good things.” He kissed her smiling cheek. 

“Oh a fool you may be, but, quite a handsome one.” She joked with a laugh, patting his chest as she reluctantly pulled away and found her feet again. Swaying slightly as her heart still fluttered. He followed, chuckling under his breath and bracing her with a firm hand to her waist. 

“Thank you for lunch, Aulora.” He said softly, kissing her once more. She leaned into him, overcome by the quiver in her heart. “I will see you soon.” He was soon out the door, after a look back, and Aulora flopped down on the chair, giggling to herself, lightly touching her lips. She let herself bask for a moment, keeping the warmth of his hands until it faded. Then she pushed herself back up and went about her day, albeit with a love struck grin which she had no hope of hiding.

That night rounds were cold, but swift. Aulora, Elizabeth and Suri made their way to the port to make their visit to the Nauts. They were welcomed inside as usual by, Brigga, a happy young lady Naut. Aulora carried in the case of wine and sat chatting with Brigga while Suri flirted with a couple of gentlemen before leaving with one of them. Aulora sat and drank for a while before Brigga retired for the evening. She kicked back and flipped languidly though a Chapbook, expecting to be there for a couple more hours before the girls were done.

“Still counting the days until you give in, siren.” Came a good humored deep voice from the doorway. She could only sigh as the man strode confidently toward her. 

“Hello, Drake. What foul wind has blown you in?” The man only laughed, leaning against the table she was sitting at.

“Oh, even such cruel words are poetry to my ears, Siren.” He winked. 

“Fuck off, Drake. Answer is still no.” She stated, returning her attention to the book.

“Five fifty.” He countered, reaching for her hand across the table, only for her to pull her hands back. Closing the book, she set it in her lap and leveled him with a stern gaze.

“Want a drink, Drake?” She rose swiftly from the chair, moving to the case to grab a fresh bottle of wine. 

“Six hundred. I’ll go higher if that’s what it takes.” He pushed away the offered bottle. “A drink is not what I want, Siren. You know what I want.” 

“Sorry Drake, but that is not on the menu.” She smirked tensely, realizing suddenly that they were alone. She glanced toward the door. He crowded her then, his leather gloved hand grasping her chin.

“Don’t keep me waiting forever.” His tattoos sharpened as his eyes narrowed on her, his hand drifting down around her neck as he leaned in close.

“Get your hands off me!” She pushed him back, but he barely budged, his grip on the back of her neck only strengthening. The sound of the leather against her skin increasing her panic. Her heart pounded against her chest. She struggled as he began to pull at her bodice. “No!” She continued to struggle, so he grasped her arms and slammed her against the wall.

“Don’t toy with me girl.” He growled. She spit in his face. He reeled back before slapping her across the face with all his strength. For a moment, her vision blurred, specks of light danced before her eyes. By the time she regained her focus, he was tearing again at her bodice. She pushed at him again, anger beginning to flash hotter inside her than panic, a cold tingling sensation rushed through her. 

It was the crackle of his cruel laughter that set her over the edge. She cried out as a wave of magic pulsed from her. He was thrown back, along with the furniture and everything else in a three yard radius. She panted, tears spilled down her face, she stood pressed against the wall and stared at the man passed out on the floor. She stood there a moment, took in the state of the room, the broken glass, and blood trickling from the man’s nose. Foot falls echoed from upstairs, so she fled. As swiftly as she could, shrouded by the cloudy night, she ran from the dock.

Minutes later, outside of the De Sardet residence, her knocks went unanswered. For about ninety seconds, Aulora waited and listened for an answer, shifting foot to foot, her face burned, her jaw ached. It took every bit of her restraint to keep from bursting into tears. When she heard no movement, she decided to hop the wall to the courtyard. 

After a few minutes of searching, she found an open window to the kitchen. She peeked in cautiously before hiking her skirt out of the way to climb up the stone and haul herself in. Her shaking arms gave way, and she landed back to the kitchen tile with a thud that knocked the air from her lungs. With a grunt she pulled herself to her feet, sniffling as a few angry tears slipped to her heated cheeks. She peeked around the kitchen, listening for any hint that someone might be home. 

She wandered from room to room, poking her head into the doors along the way. One was a pantry, one a privy, one a vacant bedroom. The door on the right led to the great room. The last room on the left seemed occupied. She slipped in, the curtain was pulled back, the window mostly obscured by a tree outside, diffusing soft moonlight that came through. With a gesture of her hand, the lantern roared to life. She looked around the room.

A few books sat on a desk at the right, several maps of different parts of Tir Fradee were tacked to the wall above it. A familiar knife was stuck into the wood of the desk, pinning a folded note there. She wondered what it said. Opposite the window was a small basin and a shaving mirror. As she wandered past it, she was startled by her own reflection. She stood there a moment, taking in the puffy red rimmed eyes brimming with tears, the bruised left cheekbone, bloodshot eyes. Her hair which was normally twisted up neatly behind her head was loose, especially where he had grabbed at her, to force her eye contact. 

She looked a mess, and she was not amused. Her head pounded and she was exhausted from the unexpected burst of magic. She had never been able to summon such power, her small gifts usually limited to the minor telekinesis and occasional insight. Her fist clenched, but she loosened them soon, realizing her bruised knuckles hurt more than she had initially realized. Frustrated with the state of herself, she began to unbind her hair. Out of its braids it fell in wild curls down her back. She took a clean cloth from the side of the basin and ran some fresh water over it. Carefully she wiped at her swollen eyes, and pressed the cool cloth to her cheekbone. Mentally she tried to calm her thoughts breathing deeply and pulling her attention back to the room. 

She walked around the bed and gazed out the window. Some lone bird chirped in the tree before scattering away to who knows where. The leaves shivered and swayed on their branches. Peaceful. She sat on the bed and gazed out the window for a while longer and combed through those wild curls with her fingers. _ When would the coin guard return? _

Her eyes drifted to the side table. A journal with a brown leather cover sat, along with a lead pencil. She plucked the journal from its place, the cover was soft and worn, the pages were thick, she unwrapped the leather string holding the pages closed and began to study the contents. To her surprise, there were detailed renderings of island beasts, and notes about their attributes.

Next to a drawing of a large beast- ‘_These lazy hounds prefer to sleep. Easy to slip past’ _ Beside a sketch of a huge bat- _ ‘Fuckers like to steal hats when they aren’t poisoning you.’ _That one made her laugh.

Some of the notes were more personal. There were quite a few about Constantin’s troubling condition. She tried to ignore those. There were quite a few drawings of small maps and native towns and people. There was one in particular that caught her eye, a small native boy with wild hair and eyes that sparked even on the page. The note read- _ ‘Lad was curious about my scars. Told him a few stories. Hope he never needs to learn firsthand.’ _

A few of the pages were torn out. She wondered what they must have been about. Toward the end there she came across a sketch that gave her pause. A lass smiling, head tilted curl falling into her face. Few freckles dusted her cheeks and nose. And yes that was her mole, that was her gapped smile. Scribbled nearby was the word ‘trouble’. _ Is this the way he saw her? _She was- beautiful. 

A stray tear fell onto the page, and she snuffled, wiping her eyes with a grin. He _saw_ her. The thought made her heart sputter, the butterflies in her belly danced. She carefully tied the journal again and placed it back as closely as she could to where she found it. Before long, she began to grow tired.

With a shaky breath, she pushed herself up from the bed and began to unlace her newly torn bodice. She folded it and carefully placed it on the chest beneath the window. Her skirt followed, and her boots were placed beside the chest. She padded quickly back to the bed, slipping under the covers with a sigh. As she drifted off to sleep she distantly wondered if Kurt were liable to stab a woman for commandeering his quarters.

She was jarred awake by the door opening. She heard the man step in the room closing the door behind him and take a few steps toward the lantern before he paused. Probably noticing her. She heard him huff, stepping carefully toward the bed he lit the lantern on that side and stood for a moment, she could feel his eyes on her. She wondered what was going through his mind. He didn’t say anything, only reached down and brushed the hair back from her face.

Seemingly satisfied that she must be sleeping, he pulled away. She could hear clothing rustling, boots being placed near the door. She heard the water splashing as he washed up in the basin. His footsteps made their way around the bed to the window. She chanced a peek as he closed the curtains, he wore only a pair of comfortable knickers. His chiseled broad back was like carved marble in this light. She shut her eyes again as he turned from the window and made his way back around the bed. 

He seemed to hesitate for only a moment before he pulled the covers back. She was curled up on her side facing the window in her simple undergarments. She felt a blush begin to creep over her under his scrutiny. But in a matter of seconds she heard the lantern snuff, and felt the bed dip as he slipped in behind her.

He slid right alongside her, his broad chest against her back. She felt herself shiver in response to his warmth, he hushed her gently, wrapping an arm around her he pulled her close. As his steady breath blew softly into her hair, his scent enveloped her, he absently stroked a hand along her arm, she found her tension melt away, she was safe right here. Before long she drifted back to sleep with a contented sigh.

By the morning, they were fully wrapped up in one another. His arm was heavy across her waist. She held his hand clutched to her chest. They were pressed together front to back, even their legs tangled. She drifted into consciousness aware of Kurts light snores. The sound made her smile. She nuzzled impossibly closer, freezing when she felt his morning glory against her rear. She blushed deeply, those butterflies now aflame in her core. She swallowed hard pressing back into him curiously this time. Before she could move much, his hand grasped her hip tightly, drawing a gasp from her.

“ What are you after, girl?” He practically growled into her ear. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her head felt dizzy. 

“I- I am sorry.” She managed to choke out in a whisper. Every place they touched now seemed more alive a tingle spread through her. Her breath seemed to be coming shallow and sharp now. 

“Hmm…” he contemplated, his hand drifting from her hip, slipped under the hem of her shirt. His warm calloused fingers grazed across her bare stomach.

“You must want something, what are you doing here?” He asked, removing his hand and shifting back from her just enough to prop himself up. She turned onto her back so she could see him properly. His eyes drifted over her his hand coming back to smooth over the soft skin of her belly which was exposed. 

She watched him, those icy eyes bright in the morning light. They seemed to linger at her chest before he remembered himself and snapped his gaze to her face. She was still flushed, how could she not be? His brow quirked in concern. His hand came up to gently stroke her left cheekbone. His forearm rested on her chest, where she reached up to hold. She was distracted by the sight and weight and musk of him, it seemed her grasp on his forearm was all that was keeping her tethered.

“What happened?” He asked gently. Still stroking her cheek and brushing his fingers over her hair. 

“ The night rounds were… eventful.” she confessed, “I’m sorry, I- I had nowhere else to go.” She felt tears threaten to appear again.

“So you came here?” He clarified, hand gently resting on her throat. She only nodded in response. “Whoever did this to you...”

“Don‘t worry, Kurt.” She smiled. Her hand stroked up his arm fingers dancing along old scars and new, across hardened muscle. Her grip pulled him closer he chuckled, leaned in close stroking her cheek. Softly his lips brushed her cheek, placing several soft kisses. He paused over her lips, she gasped softly as his lips covered hers. The kiss was slow, quickly deepening into something passionate. His lips were firm, dry but soft. The prickle of his beard was strangely satisfying. He moaned into her licking into her mouth. His arm wrapped around her pulling her flush to him, her arms wrapped around his neck. 

Those large hands swept over her heated skin, supple and soft under his rough touch. His kisses drifted to her neck, his scruff making her giggle. He growled in response nipping at her collar bone. She moaned out as a hand slipped under her garment and kneaded her full breasts. He nuzzled his face into her bosom, scenting her groaning as he kissed at the soft flesh there. 

“Kurt…” she keened. He licked the valley between her breasts before kissing her full in the lips again. His hand stroked down her side, around to cup her bottom. Stroking her leg where it wrapped around his hip. He ground down into her, drawing a shaky moan from her muffled by their kiss. She was hot all over, she could feel the hard line of him against her._ So close _. He moaned as well stroking his calloused hand up her smooth curved thigh. 

“God you’re perfect.” He praises kissing at her neck again. His hand slipped around her thigh,grazed over her hip dipped into her shorts. She gasped her hand clapping over his he halted instantly. 

“I, I don’t.” He removed his hand slowly, resting it over her hip again.

“Easy, easy.” He soothed, kissing her lips again. He gave a comforting smile. 

“I’m sorry,” she said with an embarrassed breathy laugh, bringing her hands up to brush over her heated face. “It’s only that I’ve never…” his eyebrows shot up in realization.

“Oh!” He pulled back slightly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! No, I want this, I want you.” She said taking his hand and kissing his palm. He smiled, his thumb stroking her bottom lip before leaning in to kiss again. 

“Then let’s take it slow.” He said kissing her firmly before pushing her onto her back and settling himself between her thighs. He kissed from her lips down her neck biting playfully at her shoulder and lowering himself further kissing along her belly rubbing his beard softly against her skin, nipping at her hip bone. He gripped her thighs kissed the inside of her right thigh, a shiver ripped through her. Turning his head he feathered several kisses on the left carefully watching her eyes as he did. 

“Alright?” He asked softly, she nodded humming her ascent. He kissed his way up her thigh, pausing to kiss her through her bloomers. She gasped in a deep breath and let out a moan. She could feel him grin against her. He placed another warm open mouthed kiss there, following it up by licking a stripe up her center. She groaned out, bucking her hips. 

With a groan, he sat back on his knees, gently gripping under her knees to pull her so that her thighs laid over his. He looked down on her with a wicked grin, one of his hands sliding down her leg, resting warm and solid over her mound, his thumb stroking her through the now moist fabric. His free hand palmed his hardness through his own clothing. He watched her, brown skin flushed, dark curls laid out wild atop the bedding. Her eyes squeezed shut. She panted as his thumb drew circles against her bud. Her breasts heaved with every deep breath and she practically whimpered his name. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his deep unwavering voice not to be denied. She opened her eyes to him, and was blown away at the sight. Truthfully, growing up in the brothels, she had seen many _ compromising _ things. But this was different. Kurt was a beautiful man, though Aulora was sure he didn’t see it that way, it didn’t change the facts. Seeing him like this was absolutely breathtaking.

Her gaze traveled from his handsomely marked face, his hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, his icy blue eyes blown wide with lust, his lips were kissed pink and smirking seductively. A hint of a flush spread across his toned chest, several scars and delicate freckles covered the skin there, softly covered by the hair that lightly swept over his chest. There was one particularly gruesome looking scar across his ribs on the left, she would have to ask about that one later. His abs were a work of art, probably cut by the gods themselves. A trail of hair brought her eyes to the outline of his arousal straining against the cloth of his boxers.

She watched as he untied the string at the waist and up sprang his manhood, all the while, he kept stroking her in that maddeningly perfect way. She watched as he took himself in hand, stroking slowly, as his eyes devoured her. His eyes flicked to hers, a question, requesting permission. She gazed into his eyes for a moment before nodding. He leaned over her, propping himself up with an arm beside her head. He kissed her deeply, there was something more to this kiss, it was gently passionate. Promising of what he had in mind. His free hand came up between them, pulling at the ribbon that laced her top together. Once undone, he caressed her, never breaking the kiss. Soon that hand was drifting down her abdomen again. It came to rest, and he pulled away slightly.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered against her lips. 

Though her heart was hammering, she answered, “Yes.”

“Will you have me?” He continued after a lingering kiss. 

“Yes, Kurt.” She moaned finally releasing her grip on the sheets to run her fingers through his hair and deepen the kiss. He then pulled back, sliding his fingers under the waist and of her shorts. He pulled them slowly over her hips, unconsciously licking his lips as he did. He made note of each mark, each mole on her body. As he pulled the bloomers from her, she pulled off her top.

“You are so, so beautiful…” he mused, as he removed his own shorts. They settled together kissing and touching every inch possible. He slipped his hand between them, dipping into her she moaned out tossing her head back. 

“Kurt!” She groaned out as his fingers plunged into her, curling cleverly, pressing with determination. All the while he pressed kisses into her neck, her cheek, her chest, anything he could reach.

“Good girl, just relax.” She whimpered at his rumbling voice. She could feel her resolve crumbling her thighs began to quiver. She panted and moaned, tried to focus on his warmth, overwhelmed by his intoxicating scent, the man both grounded her and sent her soaring. With one last curl of his fingers brought her over the edge, her hips shooting up from the mattress, as close to him as she could get. He chucked nuzzling into her hair pressing patient firm kisses into her neck. 

“Yes, darling, good…” he growled into her ear as she rode out her peak. Too soon he removed his fingers. None too gently he gripped her hips to shift her position slightly drawing a gasp from her. She wrapped her ankles about him, back still arching from her release. 

She watched through heavy lidded eyes as he positioned himself and leaned in slowly, he filled her, every inch. The feeling was altogether terrifying and absolutely satisfying. She didn’t belong in her body anymore, she belonged with him. She held her breath unknowingly. Watched as he clenched his eyes shut, bottoming out completely. She could feel her walls quiver and pulse around him. He opened his eyes to her, and she let the breath out.

“Kurt, please.” She moaned he sealed his lips to hers as he began to move, both of them moaning. The feeling was almost indescribable. There was a pain that was sweetness, a fullness and a pressure that she both wanted to pull from, and drown in. Each thrust radiated through her like drops of water in a still pond. It ripples through her, reaching every corner of her being.

She felt like she was on fire and she wanted to touch, everything, brand every part of him she wanted this moment remembered. He was the first man to ever make her feel this way. The first one she ever allowed near. 

So she touched, she grasped his biceps which braced him, ran her nails down the toned back and gripped the narrow waist, she pulled him close and kissed what she could reach. She worshipped this man; beautiful marble sculpture, nicked and scarred by war and circumstance made more magnificent by stark relief. She accepted his force and his tenderness, found in their midst, bliss. 

They breathed one another drank of one another. The reactions so strong that soon it was all they could do to combust. Each cried out aflame through the climax, too close to the sun. The implosion was powerful; every nerve in her body from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet sang. Her whole body resonated with his. With stars behind his eyes, Kurt collapsed onto her and she welcomed him, clutching him close, his weight and heat the only thing keeping her tethered.

Eventually they caught their breath again, came to themselves again. Kurt bore his weight again, kissing her slow before rolling onto his back beside her. He reached for her hand and kissed it before letting their hands fall to the mattress between them. Unable to stop herself, she laughed, a body shaking laugh that proved quite contagious as Kurt couldn’t help but laugh along. When they settled she curled into him, leg strewn across him, head resting on his chest. He in turn wrapped his arm around her, held her hand,kissed the top of her head. She was lulled into peace by his steady heartbeat.

  
  



End file.
